


Returning To You

by Dreamer1701



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Assassin Mary Morstan, Bad Mary Morstan, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Evil Mary Morstan, Feelings, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock - Freeform, Lestrade's First Name Is Greg?, M/M, Moriarty is Dead, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, POV John Watson, Post-Reichenbach, Romance, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock Holmes on a Case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29159208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamer1701/pseuds/Dreamer1701
Summary: When Sherlock jumped from the rooftop, John is devastated. The most important person in his life has killed himself. He doesn't know how to go on now, knowing that Sherlock will never come back. Worst of all, however, is that he never got a chance to tell Sherlock he loved him. Or will he get another opportunity to tell him? JOHNLOCK
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, this is the first chapter of my new story! It's about John and Sherlock, starting right after the Reichenbach Fall. I'm a huge Johnlock fan, so you all know where this is heading. The first chapter is very short and rather an introduction than a real chapter. Please let me know what you think, that would be awesome.
> 
> I'm currently writing this story and it's originally posted on another platform. So far, it has seven chapters. I'm going to post them all here within the next days as well.
> 
> I don't own the characters or places!

“ _Sherlock?” John asked, looking around to find Sherlock. However, he couldn't see him anywhere in the streets surrounding the hospital._

“ _Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop.” Sherlock's voice sounded through the phone._

“ _Oh god.” He felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw his best friend there on the edge of that rooftop. What was he even doing there?_

“ _I... I... I can't come down, so we'll... we'll just have to do it like this.” Sherlock's voice sounded hoarse, like it wasn't easy for him to say those words._

“ _What's going on?” He didn't understand it. All of this. What was Sherlock doing here?_

“ _An apology. It's all true.”_

“ _Wh- what?”_

“ _Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty.”_

“ _Why are you saying this?” What the hell was going on? Sherlock couldn't give in to all this, could he? Of course Moriarty existed, many people knew him. John had seen him himself on several occasions. And even Mycroft knew that he existed. All this talk about Rich Brook was a lie. He didn't exist! Did Sherlock really expect that John also believed this lie?_

“ _I'm a fake.” No, he couldn't say this. Sherlock couldn't let Moriarty win._

“ _Sherlock...” He tried again, but his friend interrupted him._

“ _The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly... In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes.” John couldn't believe what he just heard._

“ _Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met..._ the first time we met _, you knew all about my sister, right?” He had to convince him that it wasn't true. Sherlock was brilliant, everyone knew that. Why was he saying all this?_

“ _Nobody could be that clever.”_

“You _could.”_

“ _I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. Just a magic trick.” No. John refused to believe that. He_ knew _Sherlock. He didn't make anything up._

“ _No. Alright, stop it now.” He tried to walk towards the building again, but Sherlock stopped him._

“ _No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move.”_

“ _Alright.” He gave in, afraid that his friend might do something stupid. John already felt sick just because of seeing him up there._

“ _Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?” Sherlock sounded desperate now, something John had never heard before._

“ _Do what?”_

“ _The phone call – it's, er... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they? Leave a note.” In this moment, John knew what was going to happen. Deep in his heart, he knew that he would never see Sherlock again. However, his mind wasn't working fast enough anymore._

“ _Leave a note when?”_

“ _Goodbye, John.”_

“ _No. Don't.”_

…

“ _No. SHERLOCK!”_

_Then his best friend, who was also so much more to John Watson, jumped from that rooftop._

_In that moment, his whole life seemed to end._

_When Sherlock jumped, a part of John was dying too._

* * *

He awoke with a cry and sat up in bed. John was breathing heavily and he was sweating. His cushion was wet and the sheets were already lying on the floor. Apparently, he'd turned very much in his sleep. The room was still dark and a glance at the clock told him that it was still in the middle of the night.

He closed his eyes and tried to make the images from his dream vanish, but he kept seeing Sherlock standing on the edge of the rooftop. Then he'd jumped... And there had been so much blood...

“Stop this.” John muttered to himself. “Just stop.”

His attempt to forget everything failed. He kept seeing Sherlock, lying on the ground, covered in blood. He didn't have a pulse. The most important person in his life was dead.

Sherlock Holmes was dead.

Because of Jim Moriarty and his stupid games.

Moriarty, who'd killed himself on that rooftop.

Why did Sherlock jump when Moriarty was already dead? The question wouldn't stop bothering John.

Was it because Moriarty had ruined his reputation? Somehow, John didn't believe this. Sherlock would have dealt with it somehow. They would have dealt with it _together_. But why did he do it then?

John couldn't find an answer to this.

He sank back down onto the mattress, though he already knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore. He'd rarely slept ever since Sherlock jumped from that rooftop nearly a week ago. And if he did, nightmares kept haunting him. However, that wasn't the worst. The images also kept haunting him while he was awake. John didn't leave the flat ever since he returned on _that day_ , completely exhausted.

First, he didn't want to return to 221 B at all. But where else could he go? He didn't have an answer to that. Being in the apartment was depressing, but he knew that he couldn't give it up. Too many memories were connected to it.

Suddenly, John realized what day it was.

The funeral would take place this morning.

He stumbled out of bed and to the bathroom, feeling incredibly sick.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson was crying. It was the only sound that cut through the silence on the graveyard. John stood next to her, feeling numb. His eyes were fixed on the tombstone. Sherlock's name was standing there.

Sherlock Holmes was dead.

His best friend. His partner. And so much more.

“You were really important to him, Dr. Watson. Even if I will never understand this sentiment which affected my brother concerning you.” A voice behind him said and John turned around slowly to see Mycroft Holmes standing in front of him.

Mycroft looked calm as always. He was wearing a dark suit, the umbrella was in his hand and when he looked at John, his eyes narrowed slightly. They didn't see each other ever since John stormed out of the Diogenes Club the previous week. Mycroft had asked John to take care of Sherlock, but he failed. Now he was dead.

“You could have done nothing to prevent this. My brother always did what he wanted.” Of course Mycroft knew what John was thinking. He was just as smart as his brother.

John remained silent, not sure what to say now.

“Blaming yourself won't do any good.” Now Mycroft smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. It rather looked like a grimace. He glanced at the tombstone and cleared his throat. “I'm sure we will see each other again, Dr. Watson.”

When John didn't reply, Mycroft bowed his head and turned around to walk away. John watched him until he disappeared between the trees on the graveyard. Would he really see Mycroft again? Or did he even want it, now that Sherlock was gone?

_You were really important to him, Dr. Watson._ When he thought of those words again, John had to swallow. Sherlock had always emphasized that John was his friend (or only friend), but hearing it from someone else was different. Hearing it  _now_ was different. Sherlock would never come back. 

John would never get a chance to tell him how much he meant to him. How his heart had always beaten faster when Sherlock was around. Not just on their cases, but every time they were close to each other. He'd loved to hear Sherlock's voice, even if he could be quite annoying sometimes. And his laugh had always made John so happy.

He'd never be able to tell Sherlock that he was the most important person in his life.

And that he was hopelessly in love with him.

“John, are you alright?” Mrs. Hudson's voice took him back to reality. She wasn't crying anymore, but her eyes were red and her voice sounded hoarse.

“Yes, of course.” He said automatically. The look on her face told him that she didn't believe his lie.

“I'll leave you alone.” She said softly and placed her hand on his arm. “I'll be waiting at the gate.”

He forced a smile on his lips. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.”

With one last sad look at him and the tombstone, she walked away slowly.

Taking a deep breath, John turned around again. Should he say something now or was it stupid to talk to a dead person? He didn't say a single word at the funeral, even if the others had tried to convince him to give a speech very hard. Mrs. Hudson had said something, and Greg Lestrade, of course. He'd talked about the time when he first met Sherlock and how their relationship had turned from something professional into a friendship. A weird kind of friendship, but that didn't matter to Greg. Sherlock had always been there when he needed him.

John was so glad that Greg also didn't believe those lies of the press. Of course he had his doubts first, but when John told him the whole story, Greg felt stupid for ever considering Sherlock to be a liar. He'd apologized to John several times.

“Um... You... you told me once that you weren't a hero. There were times I didn't even think you were _human_ , but let me tell you this: you were the best man, and the most human... human being that I've ever known and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, and so... There.” He took a deep breath, not knowing how to continue. His eyes were filling with tears and John tried to prevent them from falling so hard. Slowly, he walked towards the tombstone and placed his hand on it. 

“I was _so_ alone, and I owe you so much.” Now the tears started falling and when he breathed in again, it was shakily. It took all his strength to turn around and walk away, but after a few meters, he couldn't go on anymore. 

John turned around again. “There's just one more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't... be... dead. Would you do...? Just for me, just stop it. Stop this. I don't know how to go on without you. I love you.” The last words were barely a whisper.

He sank to his knees and now he couldn't stop the sobs any longer. He covered his face with his hands and cried, not caring if anyone saw him there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think! And don't worry, we'll see Sherlock again soon! 
> 
> I don't own the characters or places!

“John, are you sure that you're alright? You didn't leave this flat in weeks.” Mrs. Hudson's voice echoed through the silence. John heard her walking through the room and then she opened the curtains. He hissed when the light was blinding him and covered his eyes with his hands. “Why are you even sitting here in the dark?”

When his eyes got used to the light, John looked around until his eyes landed on Mrs. Hudson. She was looking at him with so much worry in her eyes that it made him feel guilty immediately. He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat was feeling dry. When was the last time he drank or ate something? Or even stood up? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Mrs. Hudson seemed to notice that he wasn't feeling well and didn't wait for a reply. She walked to the kitchen and began to make tea. “John, you have to take care of yourself.” She said while she was busy and he stood up slowly. His legs felt weak when he joined her in the kitchen. “It's not good that you sit here alone every day. You should try to distract yourself.”

It was true, after the funeral, he'd rarely left 221 B. Only when he needed to get food or other things from the store. However, he'd also stopped doing that in the past days. Everything just seemed so senseless now that Sherlock was gone. His phone had rung several times in the past days, but John had ignored it. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

Most of the time, he was just sitting in his armchair and tried to think of nothing at all. It wasn't working, though. Too many memories were coming to his mind, most of them of his time with Sherlock. Especially the last weeks when everything turned upside down. Ever since Moriarty decided to continue his game with Sherlock. John still couldn't sleep because of the nightmares. Every time he tried to sleep, he saw Sherlock jump again.

“John?” Mrs. Hudson's voice took him back to reality. She handed him a hot cup of tea.

“Thank you.” He muttered and his voice sounded rough. He cleared his throat and took a sip of the tea. It was still far too hot, but he didn't care. In this moment, it just felt good to feel anything at all. Not the numbness which always came back when he was alone. Because that's how he was feeling. Numb. After days of crying, the tears wouldn't fall anymore. His anger was also gone. Which just left an incredible sadness that John tried to push away as hard as possible.

“You're not alright.” Mrs. Hudson said and sat down next to him.

“No.” There was no point in lying to her any longer.

“Do you want to talk about it? It might help. It helped _me_.”

“I can't do that.” He shook his head slowly. “Not yet.”

“The funeral was nearly three weeks ago, John.” She sighed. “You can't stay in here forever.”

He knew that. Hell, he knew it! But he just couldn't go out there again. Not after everything that happened. Not with what all those people believed about Sherlock now. That he was a liar. A fake.

“I know. But I don't feel ready yet, Mrs. Hudson.”

“You never will if you don't try.” She argued immediately. “I know how I felt after the death of my husband. It's like you can never be happy again. But you're wrong, John. Everything will get better with time. You're such a strong person, you will get over this.”

He wouldn't. But there was no use in mentioning that now.

Mrs. Hudson seemed to see something in his expression because suddenly, a slight smile appeared on her lips. “DI Lestrade was here yesterday.”

John nearly choked on his tea. “Greg was here? What did he want?”

“To check on you, of course!” She said as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “He's worried. You didn't contact him again after the funeral.”

“I didn't think that he'd care anymore. Not now that _he's_ gone.” He couldn't say _his_ name.

“John Watson, you will listen to me now!” At her loud words, John flinched. “You can't stay in here forever! And even if you won't believe me, let me tell you one thing. There are people who care about you, John. You have friends who are worried because you shut yourself of from them. We all want to help you to get better.”

He stared at her. “I'm not sure, Mrs. Hudson...”

“You _will_ go out again.” Now she sounded really determined. And it wasn't a request. “Tomorrow, you'll go shopping with me. Then you'll call Lestrade and go out with him. Let him tell you something about his cases, anything to get your mind away from him. You will also go back to work. I won't watch you fall apart in here!” Her anger seemed to lessen slowly and was replaced by a sad look. “I've already lost one of you.”

When her eyes started to fill with tears, John reacted instinctively. He placed his cup on the table and wrapped his arms around Mrs. Hudson carefully. His mind was racing. Could he really just continue with his life as if nothing happened at all? No. Could he get back to normal? No. But could he _try_ to carry on? Not for Mrs. Hudson or anyone else, but for Sherlock. Because he wouldn't have wanted John to stop living at all, would he? He could do that. At least that's what he thought.

“Alright, I'll try, Mrs. Hudson.” He said softly and stroked her back while she was crying. “But I won't promise anything.”

“You don't have to.” She replied immediately and when she looked up again, she was smiling widely. He could see triumph in her eyes. “It will get better, I'm sure of that.” Then she stood up and looked around as if nothing happened at all. “You should clean up in here, John. I understand that you couldn't do it, but this chaos in here has to end.” She pointed at some of Sherlock's things which were still lying around. “Take your time with it.”

He stared at her in confusion when she walked to the door. “Oh, and I've made you an appointment with a therapist in two days.” When John started to shout at her, she was already gone.

* * *

Greg was surprised when John called him later that day, but he agreed to meet him immediately. John thought that he could also hear relief in his voice. Maybe Mrs. Hudson was right and John should see more people. They couldn't lessen the pain, but it would be a distraction. At least for some time. Until he returned to the flat alone.

Being with Greg again was nice. They met at a bar close to 221 B and talked about many things, except for Sherlock and Greg's work. When John noticed that Greg was also sad because of Sherlock's death, he felt guilty. He was also mourning his friend, but didn't stop living at all. He kept going. However, to Greg, Sherlock had just been a friend and nothing more. For John it was different. He'd lost everything.

John and Greg agreed to meet again at least once a week. When he returned home that day, he was glad to know that he could always count on Greg. Until now, John didn't see him as a real friend, but this changed. Even if the day had been nice, his nightmares returned at night.

Mrs. Hudson's idea with the therapist was the worst she had in a long time. John went to see her, even if he didn't want it. But he'd promised Mrs. Hudson to go there at least a few times to see if she could help him. She couldn't. She was a nice woman, but she always tried to make John talk about his feelings concerning Sherlock. Then he realized that he wasn't ready for it yet. He even had to force himself to say that his best friend was dead. After seeing her three times, John ended the sessions with the therapist.

For a long time, he tried to avoid talking about Sherlock at all. First, it worked pretty well. Normally, John hated it when others acted as if he was made of glass, but at least this prevented them from asking any questions. Months passed and slowly, John couldn't ignore all the questions any longer. As well as all the reporters who were following him around, wanting to hear the truth about Sherlock Holmes, he lying detective, as they called him now.

It hadn't been easy for John to read all those articles and watch the news on TV, but at some point, he just had to do it. He needed to know how the world saw Sherlock now. What he found out made him feel sick immediately. Just like that, all his anger returned. At Moriarty for playing this game with Sherlock. At all those people who believed the stupid lies. And also at Sherlock because he didn't talk to John about all this. He was still sure that all this could have been prevented if they'd worked together. But Sherlock had decided to shut him out. This thought still hurt like hell. Knowing that Sherlock didn't trust John with this. They'd _always_ worked together. Well, except for that incident at Baskerville, but that was quite crazy.

John knew that he had to do something about the lies people told about Sherlock. He couldn't stand knowing that the memory of him was stained like this. It would mean that he had to talk about everything for the first time in months, but it was necessary.

One evening, he mentioned this to Greg.

“I've been wondering when you would come to this conclusion.” His friend said with a frown on his face. “Are you sure that you're ready for this, John?”

He sighed. “I have to do this, Greg. I can't stand it any longer.”

“And you'll be alright...?” Greg didn't finish his question, but John knew what he meant. _Will you be alright after talking about Sherlock or will it make you lose your mind again?_

He took a deep breath. “It's time to tell people the truth. All of it.” Well, maybe not everything, but most of it. He would never tell anyone just how much Sherlock meant to him. Would he break down again after talking about Sherlock? Most probably. Nevertheless, he had to do it. John knew already that he would never be alright again.

“I miss him too.” Greg said quietly. “Even if he was annoying most of the time.”

John chuckled weakly when Greg grimaced. “He would have told us to stop being sentimental.”

“Would have told us to do something useful.” Greg agreed.

“Maybe also complained that there weren't any interesting cases at the moment.” John added.

This caught Greg's attention. “Oh, but there are some.” He said suddenly and John raised his eyebrows.

“There are?”

Greg nodded. “They would have thrilled Sherlock.”

“Tell me about them.” Those words left his mouth without hesitation. John was surprised by himself. Could he really just listen to Greg's stories?

Greg looked insecure and opened his mouth to say something, but John was faster.

“If you'll ask again if I'm sure about this, I'll hit you.” He looked at him warningly. “I'm not made of glass. Maybe a distraction would be good.”

And just like this, Greg began to tell John about their recent cases. Of course just the most difficult ones. To his surprise, John even enjoyed talking about them. He might not be as good as Sherlock, but he had a few ideas. After all, he had the best teacher. Soon, they were discussing John's theories to Greg's cases.

In this moment, John realized something. He'd missed this. Those riddles and the excitement while trying to solve them. “If you ever need help, let me know.” He said when they were about to leave the bar. “I could use some change in my life.”

Greg grinned. “I'll keep that in mind.”

They walked in silence for some time until they reached Greg's car. He placed a hand on John's arm. “Keep me updated about the reporters. And if you don't want to talk to them alone, call me.”

John smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you, Greg.”

He shook his head. “Not for that.”

On his way back to Baker Street, John kept thinking about his conversation with Greg. It was true, he had to tell everyone the truth about Sherlock Holmes. Would they believe him? He wasn't so sure about it. But he had to try either way.

Before he could change his mind again, he unlocked his phone and wrote a short text.

The answer came nearly immediately.

**I will arrange everything. - MH**

* * *

_The truth about Sherlock Holmes is out now! - Sherlock Holmes: Liar or hero?_

_Months after the world's only consulting detective's death, his friend and companion Dr. John Watson finally told us his story. Was the press wrong all this time and fooled by one of the most dangerous criminals?_

_From what Dr. Watson told us in an exclusive interview, we got the story of Sherlock Holmes wrong all this time. He describes their first meeting and the development of a very special friendship that followed. Also how they started working together on cases until Mr. Holmes met his greatest challenge, Jim Moriarty. A man who fooled the entire country with his evil plans._

_Read the entire interview on page 3._

John stared at the paper for some time, but he didn't turn to page three to read the article. He already knew the story, he'd read it before it was published. Mycroft had made sure that it wouldn't be changed again after that, John knew this. Ever since the article was published this morning, his phone wouldn't stop ringing. Everyone wanted to hear his opinion to this interview. However, John didn't have anything to add. He'd told them his story and he didn't want to tell them something new.

He just hoped that they would believe him now and stop telling those lies.

“Now they'll realize how brilliant you were.” He said into the silence of his flat. “I had to do this. I know that you wouldn't have cared, but it bothered me so much.” John knew that it was stupid to talk to someone who was dead, but he couldn't help it. He also still visited the graveyard regularly.

He'd expected to feel relieved after telling the truth about Sherlock. However, that feeling wouldn't come. Instead, John just felt empty. Ever since he'd talked to the reporters Mycroft contacted a week ago, the sad feeling Sherlock's death had left returned with full force. Greg had visited him a few times in the past days, but he also couldn't get John out of the darkness again.

Sherlock Holmes was dead. He would never come back. And John didn't get a chance to tell him that he loved him.

Would Sherlock have wanted to hear this? Probably not. After all, sentiment was a chemical defect to him. Maybe he would have broken John's heart. Nevertheless, it would have been better than this. Knowing that he never got a chance to tell Sherlock the truth about his feelings. Or did he already knew and that's why he pushed John away in the end? He doubted it. When it came to feelings, Sherlock was completely blind until someone told him about it.

“I miss you.” He muttered and closed his eyes. “Without you, everything just seems so pointless.” He laughed weakly. “It _is_ pointless. But I have to carry on. You wouldn't have wanted me to stop everything, right?”

When he opened his eyes again, he glanced at Sherlock's armchair and swallowed. Why was it still so difficult? Months had passed since his death, but John couldn't forget it. Ever since it happened, he didn't sleep in peace a single night. Slowly, he was even getting used to the nightmares. Every night, he saw him jump again. _The phone call – it's, er... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they? Leave a note._

“You're such an ass. You can't just leave me alone. You must have known what it would do to me. You _always_ knew those things.” He breathed in shakily. “I can't count anymore how many times I asked this but... please, just come back to me. Don't be dead, Sherlock.”

Like so many times in the past months, John began to cry again.

* * *

“That woman over there is looking at you.” Greg said and when John looked up from his glass, he saw that his friend was grinning. He turned around and followed his gaze, just to look away again. It was true, a blond woman was smiling at him from across the bar. “I've already noticed her last week. She seems to like you.”

“Are you sure that she's not looking at you?” He asked, not sure what to make of this.

Greg chuckled. “She's definitely staring at you, John.” He glanced at the woman again. “And she's quite beautiful.”

John didn't turn around once more. He didn't want to give her the impression that he was interested in her. “Well, I'm not interested.” He muttered. It was true. He didn't look at women for a long time. He'd already lost interest in them long before Sherlock's death.

“Oh come on, John. You can't stay alone forever. I bet some company would make you forget about Sherlock much faster. Always being alone can't be good for you.”

“Not interested.” He repeated.

“You should really give it a try.” Slowly, Greg's smile vanished and was replaced by a concerned look. “Sherlock's been dead for over a year now. You can't mourn him forever.”

He could. And he would. “Just drop it, Greg. I don't want any company at the moment.”

“Well, then bad luck. She's coming over.” Now he was grinning again and his eyes were gleaming when he saw the shock on John's face. He turned around quickly. It was true, the blond woman was walking towards them.

“Good afternoon. Is that seat occupied?” She gestured at the empty seat next to John and smiled charmingly.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Greg invited her immediately.

John would have loved to sigh, but he held himself back. Instead, he forced a smile on his lips. “I'm John and this is Greg.” He introduced them.

“I'm Mary.” She explained with a wide smile. “I've already seen you last week. Do you come here regularly?”

“We do.” Greg answered. The next minutes, Mary kept asking questions about them and in return, Greg asked questions about her. John remained silent most of the time and only talked when she turned directly to him. Which she did far too often for his liking.

He had to admit that Mary was a beautiful woman. Many months ago, John wouldn't have missed the chance to talk to her. She was nice and even funny. He liked her. But that's it. When she leaned closer to him, he didn't feel any physical attraction towards her.

When she finally announced that she had to leave, he felt relieved. “Will you be here again next week?”

“Most probably.” Greg answered when he noticed that John wouldn't answer the question.

“Maybe we'll see each other again.” While saying this, her eyes were focused on John. She had blue eyes, he noticed for the first time.

John looked after her when she left the bar. Once she was gone, he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He noticed that Greg was watching him with a frown on his face.

“You were so quiet.” His friend noticed.

“As I said, I didn't want any company.”

Greg didn't look convinced. “Normally, you wouldn't have missed a chance to talk to such a beautiful woman.”

“Well, maybe I'm not that interested in women right now.” John muttered. Greg's eyes widened and John froze when he realized what he'd just said.

“You mean...?” Greg didn't finish his question and shook his head slowly. “Oh no... So you and... Sherlock?”

He knew that he couldn't deny it anymore, not after what he'd just said to Greg. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded silently.

“That's why you're still so upset.” He could see nothing but sympathy on Greg's face.

“So it doesn't bother you?” John asked hesitantly. Before, he'd never considered that his friends might see him differently once he'd told them that he was gay.

“Of course it doesn't!” Greg exclaimed loudly. “You're still one of my best friends and that won't change because of this.” He hesitated. “To be honest, some people had already suspected it. You and Sherlock, I mean.” Now there was a sheepish look on his face and John assumed that Greg belonged to those people.

He sighed. “He didn't know.”

Greg's eyes widened. “Oh god.”

John nodded weakly. “I never got a chance to tell him.”

“That sucks.” Greg muttered and placed a hand on John's arm.

“It does.” John agreed quietly.

“You were really important to him.”Greg broke the silence between them. “He changed when he met you. Became less unpredictable. Even more sociable at times.”

John chuckled weakly. “I just wish we had more time.”

Greg smiled sadly. “Do you need a drink?”

John nodded gratefully.

* * *

“Come on, go to him. He looks nice.” Greg tried to convince him again.

“No. I can't.” John argued.

“You can.” He replied immediately. “He's been staring at you for the last hour or so.”

“I don't want to talk to him.” John muttered.

“But he's gorgeous.” Mary said suddenly. “You didn't even look at him, John.”

He sighed. “You two are impossible. You've been trying to find someone for me for weeks now.”

“Because you really need company.” Mary said sternly. “Ever since we met for the first time, you've been so quiet and there's this dark look on your face. And we know each other for months now, John. I would like to see you happy at least once.”

Finally, he looked over his shoulder. The man was tall, with short brown hair. He was smiling and even from the distance John could see that he was good-looking.

“Just talk to him.” Greg tried once more.

“But I'm here with you.”

“We'll be alright.” Mary assured him. “Just go and have fun.”

“Fun.” John muttered darkly. He didn't even know what that was anymore.

“If you won't go there, you can't accompany us on this case tomorrow.” Greg said now.

“That's unfair.” Nevertheless, John stood up slowly. Could he really do this? When he glanced at Greg and Mary, they both smiled at him encouragingly.

Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the man.

* * *

It turned out that he couldn't do it after all. His name was Ben and he was really nice. He could even make John laugh, which wasn't so easy anymore. After some time, he moved closer to him and placed a hand on John's. This had made his heart beat faster, but not out of excitement. When Ben also tried to kiss him, John couldn't stand it any longer. He excused himself and left the bar as fast as possible.

He barely noticed the worried looks on Greg's and Mary's faces.

The next days, he only left 221 B to go to work. Greg and Mary tried to call him a few times, but he didn't answer their calls. John wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right now.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw familiar green eyes.

_The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221 B Baker Street._

This time, he wasn't thinking of Sherlock's death but all the good times they had together. He even read some of the stories on his blog again, laughing and crying at the same time.

Mary wasn't too disappointed when John announced that he didn't want a relationship. She was pretty smart and noticed very quickly that he was gay. She even supported him with this. Together with Greg, she'd made the plan to get John a boyfriend. However, Mary was often gone for weeks, so they didn't get a chance to fulfill their plan very often. John was glad about it. He didn't want a relationship. Most probably not ever again. 

The press didn't tell lies about Sherlock anymore and he was glad about it. Apparently, his article had made any doubts the people had vanish. Sherlock Holmes was a hero again. Even Mycroft had thanked John for restoring the reputation of his brother. Only a few people kept believing the stories about the lying detective. John could live with that.

Nearly two years after Sherlock's death, John still wasn't over it. He still missed him. The nightmares kept haunting him every night, there was nothing he could do against it. Sometimes, he sat in his armchair and told Sherlock about everything that was going on in his life. Or he told him the stories on the graveyard.

John had already accepted that he would never be alright again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And chapter 3. I hope you like it, please let me know! 
> 
> I don't own the characters or places!

“Maybe we could also check on the sister.” Greg said thoughtfully.

John frowned. “Do you really think that she's involved in all this?”

He hesitated. “I'm not sure.” Greg admitted finally. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

“Would be too easy.” John agreed. “But what about the neighbour? After all, he called the police.”

“The neighbour? But why should he have called us then?”

“A distraction.” He guessed. “Would be worth a try.”

“We'll check the sister too.” Greg muttered after a few moments of silence. “And you're sure that you don't want to come with us tomorrow?” Greg and a few others from NSY wanted to go to a bar in the evening. However, John didn't want to be around so many people. Especially when many of them were looking at him with pity in their eyes, which they did ever since Sherlock jumped.

“No, I'll be fine.” He smiled slightly. “I promised Mrs. Hudson to look at old photographs with her.”

Greg looked sceptical. “That won't take the entire Saturday.”

“We've also got to do grocery shopping.” He said vaguely.

“Poor excuses.” Greg said and sighed. “But fine, if you prefer to be alone, no one will stop you.” As always, John could see the concern in his friend's eyes. Even after all this time, Greg was worried that John might do something stupid.

“I would accompany you on your case, though.” John said hesitantly and raised his eyebrows. The unspoken question stood between them for a few seconds before Greg nodded.

“An additional pair of eyes would be helpful.” He agreed. “We'll get you at ten?”

John nodded. “That's fine.” When he looked around, he noticed that they'd nearly arrived at 221 B Baker Street. After their investigations not far from here, Greg and John had decided to walk the distance to John's flat instead of getting a cab. It had been a good idea, after hours in the flat of the victim, they both needed some fresh air. Especially since it had been hot and sticky in there. It was already getting dark and John was surprised how fast this day had passed. First, he'd been at work and after this, Greg had called and asked if John was busy. Of course he'd agreed to meet Greg and his team immediately. In the past months, he'd helped them regularly. Sometimes, John could even solve a case.

“I'll see you tomorrow.” Greg smiled at him one last time before he looked around to get a cab. John was already holding his key in his hand, but when he touched the door, he noticed that it wasn't locked. He frowned. Could Mrs. Hudson have forgotten to lock the door? This had never happened to her before.

John entered the house slowly and closed the door behind him, careful not to make any noises. He stood there for some time and listened, but everything was quiet. Mrs. Hudson's flat was also silent. Maybe she'd left in a hurry and forgot to close the door?

John moved through the hallway carefully, not wanting to make any noises. Mrs. Hudson's door was locked, so she wasn't there. Nevertheless, John doubted that she'd forgotten to close the front door. Suddenly, he felt stupid for not taking his gun with him. Ever since Sherlock was gone, he left it at home, not expecting any danger. And he'd never needed it until now. Maybe he was overreacting and there wasn't any danger, but his instincts told him a different story.

John felt the adrenaline running through his veins while he crept up the stairs. While doing this, he tried to figure out how he could defend himself against a possible threat. But who on earth should wait for John in his flat? Ever since Sherlock was gone, he didn't have enemies anymore. Or was it someone from their past?

He remembered that Mrs. Hudson had left her umbrella in the hallway right in front of the flat. Maybe John could use this as a weapon. It might not be as stable as Mycroft's, but then he wouldn't have to enter the flat with empty hands. If he could get to his bedroom or the kitchen, he'd be able to get a better weapon.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed that the door to 221 B was open as well. John was sure that he'd closed it this morning. So there was someone in his flat. Most probably with bad intentions. After all, his friends would have announced a visit and they wouldn't enter his flat without permission. And who of his friends should come here? He'd just seen Greg and Mary was gone for a few weeks. John didn't have more real friends.

As quiet as possible, he opened the door and blinked at the darkness in the room. Did he close the curtains this morning? John tightened his grip around the umbrella and stepped into the flat when his eyes got used to the darkness. He closed the door behind him to prevent the intruder from escaping so easily. Was it stupid to do so? Maybe.

Everything in the flat was quiet and John froze in his position, trying to breathe as calmly as possible. He didn't want to give away his position by making any noises. For some time, everything was silent. Either the intruder hadn't noticed John's arrival yet or he was waiting for a chance to attack. He hoped that it was the first possibility.

After what felt like hours, John finally heard something. Quiet footsteps that were coming closer from the direction of the bedrooms. Did the person search for something there? He moved in that direction and stayed close to the kitchen. Otherwise, one might see his shadow in front of the windows. John noticed that the person was breathing calmly, so he or she didn't seem to be stressed. Was the person waiting for him or would he try to escape before John arrived?

Suddenly, he had an idea. He tried to walk a little faster and grabbed one end of the umbrella. Now John was glad that Mrs. Hudson had an old-fashioned thing like this which was heavy and not made of plastic. The footsteps of the person got louder and John froze in his position. He waited for a few moments and once the other person was close enough, John swung the umbrella.

There was a cracking noise followed by a strangled cry. John wasn't sure if the umbrella had made the noise or if he'd broken the nose of the intruder, but he didn't care. According to the deep voice, it was a man he was dealing with. The person fell to the ground and John threw himself at him. Apparently, he didn't knock him out with the umbrella. John gasped when he was hit in the stomach and the other man tried to get away from him. Luckily, the person was wearing a long coat and John could get hold of it.

He pulled with all his strength and the man sank down to his knees again. There was a loud crash and John knew that the small table next to his armchair wasn't standing in its place anymore. He just hoped that it wasn't destroyed completely. Ignoring the pain in his stomach, he threw himself at the man again. This time, John was able to hit him and he heard a pained gasp.

To his surprise, his opponent didn't give up yet. Something hit John's head and his grip around the man's shoulders loosened. He used this opportunity to get away from John again, who tried to follow him. His head was spinning, but he tried to ignore the feeling as good as possible. Luckily, the intruder seemed to be injured which made him slower. In the darkness, John could only see the shape of the man, but he was moving slowly, just like he was in pain. He was heading towards the door.

John knew that it was his only chance. He jumped over the table on the ground and ran to the door as fast as possible. There, he blocked the way of his attacker. Without really thinking about it, John switched on the light in the flat. It would be easier to see his opponent in a fight.

After the darkness in the room, he had to blink to get used to the light again. Apparently, the other man felt the same since the footsteps stopped abruptly. John wanted to run towards his opponent again when he saw his face.

Which made him freeze in his position.

His head was still spinning and for a moment, John forgot how to breathe. He'd been hit harder than expected if he already saw illusions. The man in front of him was also staring at him wide-eyed. John blinked, expecting to see someone else when he opened his eyes again, but the image didn't change.

In front of him stood someone he thought he'd never see again.

Because he was dead. For nearly two years by now.

“John?” Sherlock Holmes asked breathlessly. It was _his_ voice. The one John craved to hear for years. He would have given everything to hear Sherlock's voice again. Now he was here. Standing right in front of him. John must be dreaming. Or he had a concussion which was also possible. And just like that, John's knees gave in and he sank to the ground.

* * *

“John? Are you alright?” Sherlock's voice was closer now, but John didn't open his eyes. He was sitting on the ground, with his head on his knees. He had to be dreaming. This couldn't be true. Sherlock couldn't be here. He was _dead_. John had seen the body. He'd felt that there hadn't been a pulse.

Did the man hit John so hard that he was seeing illusions now? Or was he already dead and that's why Sherlock was there?

A hand touched his shoulder carefully and John flinched. At this, the hand vanished again. John tried to breathe regularly and hoped that he could prevent a panic-attack. However, his heart was racing in his chest and he was shivering. He'd had enough breakdowns in the past years to know that another one was close.

“You can't be here.” John muttered and tried to breathe in deeply which didn't work. His head was also still spinning. Maybe he really had a concussion and was seeing things. “Sherlock is dead.”

This time, the other person touched his arm more hesitantly. “I'm really here, John. This isn't a dream.”

Oh god, it was his voice. Now he'd gone crazy. In the past years, John had tried to imagine _his_ voice very often, but it had never been this convincing. “It's impossible.” He tried again. “I'm dreaming. Or I'm dead too.”

“You've very much alive, John.” This time, he didn't sound so hesitant anymore. Rather annoyed. However, there was something else in his tone John couldn't quite place. Something he'd never heard before.

“Then you wouldn't be here.” He argued, still not looking up. He couldn't do it. If Sherlock would be gone again, he would definitively lose his mind.

“Why shouldn't I be here?” Sherlock asked.

“Because you're _dead_!” John shouted. “You're dead and you'll never come back!” He hated how desperate his voice sounded. And when he inhaled shakily after this, John would have loved to scream. He hated showing weakness in front of others. It took all his strength not to start sobbing loudly now.

“But I'm right here, John! I really am!” Now Sherlock was also talking more loudly. “Look at me and convince yourself.”

“I can't.” He muttered and shook his head.

“Why not? It's easy.”

“I can't.” He repeated sternly.

There was a pause and when he spoke again, Sherlock's voice was softer. “Tell me why. Please?”

“If you'll be gone again, I'll lose my mind.” John admitted without hesitation. By now, he was convinced that this was a dream and he would wake up soon. So why not tell him the truth?

His words were followed by silence again. “Then it's good that I'm really here.” Again, there was this strange tone in Sherlock's voice. John couldn't grasp what it was. “Now open your eyes.” It rather sounded like a question.

John remained silent and tried to steady his breathing. He also tried to fight the disappointment that was surely going to come. When he was sure that it wouldn't work, he opened his eyes. Maybe he should ask Mrs. Hudson to take him back to that therapist when she returned. Apparently, he'd gone mad.

The first thing he saw was a pair of green eyes that was watching him. There was a frown on Sherlock's face and suddenly, John knew what he'd heard in his voice. Sherlock looked worried! But why would he look worried? And more importantly, why would he be here? He couldn't be. He was dead.

John studied him for a few moments. Sherlock was thinner than in his memories and he had dark rings under his eyes. In fact, everything about him looked tired. His hair was a mess and John wondered when he'd really slept the last time.

Then John saw the blood on Sherlock's forehead, right where he'd hit the man with the umbrella. Did he really fight Sherlock? His friend must have noticed his shock since he placed his hand on John's arm again. “I'm fine. You didn't hurt me that much.”

Now John stared at Sherlock's hand on his arm. His skin felt warm. His head started to spin again. “Why are you here?” He asked, not wanting to think of all this any longer. If Sherlock was this real now, he had to use this opportunity. After all, he would vanish again soon, wouldn't he?

“I came to see you, of course.” Sherlock answered immediately.

“No, I mean, what have you been doing here, in the dark?” It was a justified question, after all. Why would Sherlock behave like a burglar instead of just coming in here?

“I...” Sherlock started, but then he frowned. It was obvious that he was looking for an easy way to answer this question. “I wasn't sure if you would still want me here.” He said finally and grimaced when the words left his mouth. “After all this time.”

John stared at him. “You wanted to be gone again before my return?”

“I didn't even know if you'd still be here. After traumatic events, people often tend to change their surroundings due to unpleasant memories. And if someone else would have been living here, I couldn't just go inside and have a look at everything.” This short explanation was so much like Sherlock that John couldn't stop a short laugh that escaped his lips.

“You could have just looked at the name on the door.” He muttered and his lips twitched.

“I did.” Sherlock said thoughtfully. “It still says 'Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson'.” There was curiosity in his voice now. Of course Sherlock wouldn't understand why John couldn't change it.

“Mrs. Hudson wanted to remove your name, but I stopped her.” He said simply and flinched when he thought of that day. There had been lots of yelling and in the end, she'd given in to John's pleas. Removing that name would just be another proof that Sherlock was gone.

Just as expected, Sherlock frowned in confusion at this. “Why would you do that?”

“I'll tell you someday.” John muttered and looked down at his hands. They were still shaking.

“Do you believe that I'm really here now?” Sherlock asked hesitantly.

“No.” John replied immediately. “Because you're not.”

To his surprise, Sherlock reached out and took his hand. “Don't you feel this? My skin is warm, so I can't be dead.” Then he placed John's hand on his throat so that he could feel his pulse. “And do you feel this? I'm really here, John. If you don't believe this, just think of everything. We had a fight. You hit me and I...” He broke off and now Sherlock was the one staring at John. “I hurt you. Your head's hurting. And you'll probably have a bruise on your stomach tomorrow.”

“This is not about me.” John interrupted him harshly. Slowly, a terrible suspicion arose in him. Could all this be true? Could Sherlock be _here_? But how was this possible? “I don't understand.” He clenched his fists and felt relieved when his nails dug into his skin. The pain made the dizzy feeling go away. And it made him realize that he was really awake. “You can't be here. I saw all the blood. I was at your funeral.”

“But I am here, John.” Slowly, frustration was visible on Sherlock's face. “Why can't you see this?”

“You were dead.” John repeated. “So how can you be here?”

“A magic trick.” At those words, John felt the urge to run away as fast as possible. For far too many nights, those words had haunted him. They still did. _It's a trick. Just a magic trick._

“You... faked... _your death_?!”

“It was necessary.” Sherlock nodded. “You see...”

He wanted to start a long explanation, but John interrupted him. “I don't want to know how you did it!” He spat. “Maybe I'll never want to know that!” Slowly, the realization that Sherlock was really here hit him. Sherlock Holmes was _alive_. He'd faked his death for two years. Two fucking years! Suddenly, John felt angry. If Sherlock had been alive all this time, his suffering had been for nothing!

He noticed that they were still kneeling on the floor in front of the door. John jumped to his feet, but had to get hold of the door frame when his vision started to spin. Apparently, Sherlock had hit his head pretty hard.

“John?” Sherlock was next to him and tried to touch him again, but John took a step back.

“Don't touch me!” Slowly, the dizzy feeling was vanishing and he began to walk around restlessly. “You want to tell me that you've been alive all this time? That everything was a fake?” He barely noticed that Sherlock stood in the middle of the room and kept watching him silently, his face unusually pale. “Who knew about this?” John demanded to know and crossed his arms.

“John, you should calm down -” Sherlock tried again, but he shook his head.

“No! I have a right to know this. Two years, Sherlock! TWO YEARS! I've been suffering all this time, I've mourned you! And now I get to know that you've been alive ALL THIS TIME! So now tell me who knew about this!” He was shouting now and John was glad that Mrs. Hudson wasn't home yet.

“Molly. And Mycroft.” Sherlock said slowly, his voice quiet in contrast to John's shouting. “I couldn't have done it without them.”

“And _why_ did you do it? Why didn't you trust me?” The frustration John had felt for years was hitting him with full force now. He tried to concentrate on his anger. John didn't want to break down and cry in front of Sherlock. “We were a team! At least I believed that.”

“We are!” Now Sherlock also seemed to lose his patience. “But I did everything to save you!”

This simple sentence made John's anger vanish immediately. He stared at him. “What?” Another part of his mind noticed that Sherlock said that they _are_ a team, not were.

“I had to save you. Moriarty was going to kill you if I left that rooftop alive.” Sherlock explained and for the first time, John could see the pain on his face. This wasn't easy for both of them.

“But Moriarty's dead.” John said. “Mycroft told me that he shot himself on that rooftop.”

“He did.” Sherlock confirmed. “But he had three snipers that were going to kill Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade and you if I left that rooftop alive. He killed himself before he could call them back. I didn't have a choice.” His voice was still calm, but Sherlock's eyes were begging John to believe him.

John's mind was racing. Sherlock did all that to save him? But why did he vanish for two years? That didn't make any sense. “Why didn't you come back sooner?” He demanded to know. “You didn't have to leave for two years.”

“I had to destroy Moriarty's network first.” Sherlock continued to explain. “I needed to make sure that you're safe. If even a part of his network remained, there would have always been a risk.”

“You... you destroyed his whole network?” How could he have managed this alone?

“I didn't expect that it would take so long. But Moriarty had many contacts and not all of them were easy to find. And since I was alone, it took some time. Mycroft couldn't always help me because I was acting secretly.” Sherlock grimaced. “I would have liked to come back sooner.”

“You destroyed Moriarty's network...” John shook his head slowly. He would definitely need some time to process this. “Why didn't you send me a message? Let me know that you're fine?”

“Too risky. I've been watched all this time.” Sherlock replied. “I didn't want to draw their attention to you. It was even difficult to communicate with Mycroft and he's part of the government.”

During their conversation, John had been walking around in the flat restlessly. Now he stopped and ran a hand through his hair. “You... I've been... The funeral.” He said in the end. “Your parents weren't there and Mycroft arrived when it was over. So they knew.”

Sherlock nodded silently. Apparently, he was waiting for some kind of reaction to his story.

“I talked to you. I asked you not to be dead.” John muttered. “Do you have any idea how much I've suffered in the past two years? What it did to me that my best friend killed himself right in front of my eyes? How it destroyed me?” He shook his head and tried to blink away the tears that were trying to run down his cheeks.

“John, I'm -” Sherlock started, but he already knew what he wanted to say.

“Don't! Don't apologize, not if you don't mean it!” He breathed in deeply, but couldn't stop the sob completely. “You don't know what it's like when the most important person in your life just kills himself! Right in front of your eyes! It was like a part of me died too!” When he realized what he'd just said, John froze. He'd just told Sherlock how important he was to him. According to the look on Sherlock's face, John's confession had surprised him as well.

“I _am_ sorry, John.” Sherlock whispered. “I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. I never say things I don't mean, you know that!” He took a step closer to John, but he backed away again.

“I can't...” He muttered, but didn't know what he wanted to tell Sherlock now. That he couldn't be close to him? Couldn't break down in front of him? Or that he still couldn't really believe that Sherlock was here?

“I heard you. On the graveyard.” Sherlock said suddenly. “And I came back to you, John. “

That's when John couldn't stand it anymore. He sank to his knees again and started to sob loudly. When two strong arms were wrapped around his shoulders, he gasped in surprise. “I'm here, John. It's alright. I'm here.” Sherlock kept whispering calming words while he held John in his arms and he cried.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter, now you'll see how things go on with Sherlock and John. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> I don't own the characters or places!

Later, John couldn't tell anymore how long they sat there like this, Sherlock's arms wrapped around him while he cried. Honestly, he also didn't care. In this moment, it was just too much for John. No matter how many times he tried to calm down, it just wouldn't work. The tears and sobs didn't stop. And then there was Sherlock's voice which kept whispering that everything was fine and that he was _alive_ and _here_. It seemed like all the grief John had tried to hold back those past two years came crashing down on him in this moment.

After a long time, John was finally able to calm down again. Only then he realized that he was still clinging to Sherlock's shirt and that he'd hidden his face on his chest. Sherlock's arms were wrapped around his back tightly, even if the gesture felt a little awkward now. Of course it did! Sherlock Holmes had never been good when it came to people. This must have been a really uncomfortable situation for him.

It took all of John's strength to let go of Sherlock now. “Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Sherlock -” He started, knowing how his friend must feel right now. But then he looked at Sherlock's face and stopped his apology.

Sherlock's eyes were also red from crying and John could see tears on his cheeks. The look on his face was utterly miserable and he looked like he wanted to hug John again, at least according to the way his arms were still outstretched in his direction.

“If you finish this apology, I might have to hit you again.” Sherlock muttered and chuckled weakly. For a few moments, there was a smile on his lips, even if it looked rather pained together with the look on his face. Sherlock wiped away the tears on his cheeks and frowned at his hands. Then his attention turned to John again. “It's alright.” He swallowed and John knew that he was trying to find the right words. That rarely happened to him. “I know that I've hurt you, John. Very much.” At this, his eyes scanned John more closely and his expression darkened. John didn't want to imagine what Sherlock saw right now. Most probably, a broken man. Because that's what he was now. There was not much left of the John Watson he'd been together with Sherlock. “And _I_ am sorry, if you believe me or not. I didn't consider...” Again, he hesitated. “I didn't know that it would hurt you so much.”

For a few moments, they both looked at each other silently. John still had problems to understand what Sherlock wanted to tell him. Hell, he still had problems to get the fact that Sherlock was here into his head!

A part of him was angry because Sherlock had been alive all this time and didn't tell him. However, another, much bigger part was just shocked. Moriarty had been even more evil than John thought at that time, which meant a lot. He didn't just erase his identity, he also forced Sherlock to kill himself by threatening his three closest friends. And even if he'd been dead then, he'd still forced Sherlock to go into hiding for two years to stop all his doings. John didn't want to imagine how this time must have been for Sherlock. Trying to destroy the biggest network of criminals in this world – all by himself. He tried to wrap his thoughts around this, but it didn't work.

That's when John realized that he would need lots of time to process all this.

Again, his head started to spin and he closed his eyes while breathing in shakily.

Sherlock Holmes was alive. John's best friend was alive. The man John had loved for years was alive. The man John still loved with all his heart...

“Come on, John. Let's get you to your armchair and I'll make tea.” Sherlock's voice interrupted his thoughts and cut through the desperation that was going to take him again. When John opened his eyes, Sherlock was kneeling in front of him and held out his hand. John took it and didn't miss the troubled look on Sherlock's face. When Sherlock guided him back to the armchair, John noticed the chaos in the flat for the first time.

The umbrella was still lying on the floor. It was broken and John decided to get Mrs. Hudson a new one without telling her what happened to this. When he saw the blood on the material, he looked away quickly. The small table next to his armchair was also overturned, but not broken. While Sherlock made his way to the kitchen, John took the table and set it in its usual place. Then he placed the other things which were still lying on the floor on it. Among them was a picture of Sherlock and himself a reporter had taken a few months before the events with Moriarty had started.

He noticed that the walking stick he'd used when he first met Sherlock was also there on the ground and suddenly, he knew with which object Sherlock had hit his head. With a sigh, John leaned the stick on the table. He'd found it a few weeks previously when Mrs. Hudson had forced him to throw away old stuff. She wanted to dispose of it too, but John had stopped her. His first good memories with Sherlock were connected to this walking stick and he couldn't give it away.

John heard the hissing sound of the kettle in the kitchen and then Sherlock came back with two mugs of tea. John wasn't surprised to find out that it was exactly how he liked it. Sherlock sat down in his usual armchair and only then John noticed that he was moving carefully, almost as if he was in pain.

Sherlock must have seen the suspicious look on his face since he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Mrs. Hudson isn't home yet?” John knew an attempt to avoid a certain subject when he saw one, but he didn't have the energy to argue right now.

He nodded. “First, I thought she'd forgotten to close the front door.”

Sherlock grimaced. “A mistake on my part.” He muttered, sounding unhappy about this.

“At least it gave me a warning that someone was in my flat.” John threw in. “I mean, it could have also been someone with bad intentions.”

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. “In the past two years, no one tried to disturb you here.”

“There's a first time for everything.” He shrugged. “My instincts told me that something was wrong.”

“And so you just decided to hit me with Mrs. Hudson's umbrella. I've always thought that it would make a good weapon in critical situations...” Sherlock's gaze wandered to said umbrella.

“You can't expect me to stay calm when I find out that someone's broken into my flat.” John raised his eyebrows. “I had to defend myself.”

“I don't blame you.” Sherlock replied calmly. “I didn't hear you until you hit me with that thing.”

“That was the plan.” John felt uncomfortable while talking about their fight. “And I really didn't hurt you?” He pointed at the blood on Sherlock's forehead.

He shook his head. “I'm fine. You, on the other hand, might have a concussion.”

“I don't. I'm the doctor, remember?” John still felt a little dizzy, but he knew what a concussion felt like and it wasn't like this. “I just need some sleep and then it'll be fine again.” He already knew that he wouldn't get much sleep this night. Not after the events of the day. John knew that he would see Sherlock jump again. At this, the pain in his chest which didn't leave him in the past two years returned.

“John.” Sherlock said suddenly and he sounded highly concerned.

John fought back a sigh. He'd nearly forgotten how much Sherlock noticed. “It's nothing.” He muttered and leaned back in his armchair. The cup of tea was already empty and he placed it on the table.

“I don't believe you.” The harshness John had expected was missing in Sherlock's voice. Instead, it sounded nearly soft. Concerned.

“I'm fine.” John hoped that Sherlock would drop it now, but of course he didn't.

“You're not. I can see it.”

“Please don't start with your deductions now.” He hated how pleading his voice sounded, but he couldn't help it. “I don't want to hear it. Not about this.” He couldn't stand it. Hearing the realization in Sherlock's voice when he noticed that John wasn't the man he knew anymore. That he was damaged now. Would Sherlock leave him again because of this?

The panic that was cursing through his body at this thought won against the exhaustion he felt. Suddenly, he felt awake again.

When he opened his eyes, he looked directly into Sherlock's eyes. Apparently, John didn't hear him standing up and kneeling down in front of his armchair. Sherlock was looking at him with so much intensity that it made John swallow and his heart started to beat faster. This time, not out of panic.

“Let me tell you one thing, John Watson.” Sherlock was whispering, but John could hear the determination in his voice. “You're not broken or whatever you might think. You've suffered a lot in the last two years. That's only normal after a loss like that. It will be alright again, John.” His tone softened. “You're not alone anymore. We're in this together, remember?” Slowly, the determination on Sherlock's face was replaced by an insecure look. “At least if that's what you want. I would understand if you'd prefer me to leave again after what I've done.”

“No!” At the last words, the panic had reappeared. At John's loud voice, they both flinched. “Don't leave again.” He couldn't stand it. Not now that he knew that Sherlock was alive. It would break him completely. Then, nothing would be left of him.

“John, you have to calm down.” Sherlock's voice was still calm and he placed his hands on John's shoulders. “I won't leave. I promise.”

They stayed like this for some time until John had finally calmed down again. A small smile appeared on Sherlock's lips. “That's good. And now let's go to bed. We both need some sleep.”

In this moment, John was too tired to argue.

* * *

_The dream started like every night. He was getting out of the taxi, his phone in his hand when he saw Sherlock on that rooftop. Just that they didn't have the usual conversation now, the one that would stay in John's head as long as he lived. The one he heard every night for two years by now. This time, Sherlock jumped without a word and John ran as fast as he could._

_Of course he was too late. Sherlock was lying in the ground, broken and dead. There was so much blood. John knelt down next to him, trying to feel a pulse, but it was useless. He'd already known that, however it didn't lessen the pain in his chest. Suddenly, he heard someone laughing. John_ knew _that voice._

_It was Jim Moriarty._

“ _You can't win against me, John.” His voice said in a mocking tone. “You'll never win. We're both dead and you can do nothing against it.” And he laughed again which made John feel sick._

_Then the scene changed and he was standing in his flat, Mrs. Hudson's umbrella in his hands. It was broken and bloody. Only then John noticed the man on the floor right in front of him. With horror he recognized Sherlock. He was lying in his own blood._

“ _Sherlock!” John shouted and knelt down next to him. There was a deep wound on his forehead and John knew that he'd caused it. He called his name several times, but Sherlock wouldn't open his eyes. He was still breathing weakly, however he was losing so much blood..._

_John tried to stop the bleeding, but it didn't work, no matter what he tried. Soon, his hands and sleeves were covered in Sherlock's blood as well. “Sherlock, don't die!” He pleaded, but it was already too late. He would never -_

“John! John, you have to wake up! _” A faint voice called and John froze. Sherlock was dead. He'd just died in his arms, so who - “_ John, it's a nightmare! Nothing of this is real. You're dreaming. Wake up! _”_

_He recognized that voice. It was_ Sherlock's _voice. But he was dead. Or wasn't he?_

“JOHN! _”_

* * *

John woke up with a gasp and opened his eyes. He sat up abruptly, just to stare right into a very familiar face. The visions of his nightmare were still far too real so it took him a few moments to remember the events of the evening. Sherlock in his flat. The fight. Their conversation that followed.

John was breathing heavily and his chest was wet from sweat. Sherlock stared at him wide-eyed, one hand still on John's shoulder from when he'd tried to wake him. “You had a nightmare.” Sherlock whispered, breaking the silence between them. “I heard you scream.”

“I'm sorry I woke you.” John muttered and ran a hand through his hair. It was also wet. “This didn't happen in some time.” It was true, the screaming at night had stopped a few months after Sherlock's death. Mrs. Hudson had been glad about it. At first, she'd thought that someone might have attacked him at night.

Only the nightmares had remained. However, this one had been different. Far more intense than the ones he used to have.

“Don't apologize.” Sherlock muttered and frowned at John. “You have nightmares every night?”

Knowing that denying it wouldn't work, at least not after what he'd just said, John nodded silently.

“Every night for the last two years?” Sherlock asked incredulously.

“It's alright. I got used to it.” John whispered, still trying to control his breathing. “It's just been a lot. That's what made it worse, I think.”

Sherlock stared at him silently. “John... I didn't know.”

He frowned, surprised by this statement. “What do you mean?”

“I shouldn't have left.” Only now John noticed that Sherlock sounded sad.

“From what you told me, you didn't have a choice.” John muttered and sank back onto the mattress. He knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore, but it was fine.

“That's what I thought.” Sherlock still sounded unhappy.

“Let's not talk about this right now.” John was still shaking from his nightmare and hoped that this wasn't another part of his dream. Maybe his whole encounter with Sherlock had been a dream? That would mean that he'd wake up soon, completely alone.

“I'm still dreaming, right?” He asked into the silence between them.

Sherlock sighed. “You're still not convinced that I'm here?”

John shook his head. “Not entirely. I fear that I might wake up and then you're gone again.”

“That won't happen. And I don't think that you could make up all this. You're not that creative, John.” This little statement did it. Suddenly, all the frustration and disbelief of the past hours came crashing down on him again. And he laughed.

He laughed because he couldn't believe that Sherlock was back. And because this whole situation was so absurd, Sherlock trying to comfort him. Most of all, John laughed because it was so good to have Sherlock back.

“Please don't tell me that you've lost your mind now, John.” Sherlock's voice interrupted his laughter.

“I've missed you.” John muttered and looked into those familiar green eyes that were shining in the dim light. “So much.”

“I've missed you too, John.” Sherlock whispered back. “Do you think that you can sleep now?”

He shook his head. “No. I'll just stay awake.”

“It's two in the morning, John. You really need some sleep.”

“I can't.” When he closed his eyes, the images from his nightmare appeared again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sherlock's voice was unusually quiet at this question.

“You died. As simple as that.” John explained. “Every night, I see you dying. Over and over again.”

Suddenly, Sherlock pulled him into his arms with so much force that John gasped in surprise. If he'd thought that all his tears had been wasted in the evening, he'd been wrong. He began to cry again and Sherlock held him. Again, he whispered comforting words.

At some point, Sherlock wanted to leave again, but John grabbed his hand. “Please stay.” He whispered.

And Sherlock did.

* * *

When John woke up the next morning, he felt better than in years. And for the first time, his sleep had been dreamless. It was a whole new experience.

That's when he noticed that something else was different than usual. He felt warm. Like, really warm. And an arm was wrapped around his waist from behind. He didn't have to turn his head to know that it was Sherlock who was lying next to him, breathing regularly. John was surprised to find out that he'd stayed with him the entire night.

He turned his head slowly, trying not to wake Sherlock if he was still asleep. He was. His eyes were closed and there was a peaceful look on his face, something that could never be seen when he was awake. Sherlock was lying on his back and one of his arms was stretched out in John's direction. Apparently, he'd also been warm because the blanket was lying on the ground next to the bed. A short glance at the clock told John that it was seven in the morning. He'd slept for about five hours. That was very long, considering that he was used to short nights because of the nightmares now.

Not knowing when he would get another opportunity like this, John watched Sherlock silently. He was a beautiful man, John had always seen this. But now, with this relaxed look on his face, his curly hair a complete mess, he was even more stunning. John wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Sherlock's hair, but he held himself back. He didn't want to wake him and this must be far too awkward for Sherlock already.

What would he think when he woke up in John's bed? Would he regret staying with him? The fear of rejection John always felt was back right now. He was sure about his feelings concerning Sherlock. Nevertheless, he didn't know what the other man was thinking. He didn't even know if Sherlock liked men! He'd always said that he was married to his work and that said a lot.

When his eyes wandered over Sherlock's body, John froze. In the night, Sherlock's shirt had been pushed upwards and now it revealed a part of his stomach and waist. What he saw there made John feel sick.

Scars. Lots of scars were covering his chest and John knew that his back looked similar. Some of them were already healed, but others were still ugly and red. Now he realized why Sherlock had moved so stiffly the previous evening. He was in pain!

“Who did this to you?” John muttered quietly and closed his eyes. Suddenly, the last part of his anger at Sherlock vanished. Actually, he'd wanted to yell at him. Tell him that it had been stupid to leave and not tell him. But how could John blame him for all this, knowing that Sherlock had to endure so much pain?

Something else was unusual as well. Normally, Sherlock woke up very early. But he was still sleeping. John remembered how tired he'd looked and that there'd been dark circles under his eyes. Did Sherlock have nightmares as well?

“I can hear your thoughts racing from over there, John.” Sherlock's deep voice ripped him out of his thoughts and John froze.

Sherlock hadn't moved, but then he opened his eyes and his lips twitched. “I knew that you were watching me.”

“Good morning.” John said and hoped that Sherlock couldn't read his thoughts right now. “Did you sleep well?”

Sherlock sat up slowly. “Better than in years.” He nodded. When he looked at John again, his eyes narrowed. “And I see that you've also slept well. You look much better, John.”

“You too.” He threw in. “So I assume that you've also had a problem with sleep while you were gone?”

“Maybe.” Sherlock said vaguely and then he turned around to stand up.

Apparently, the movement had been too fast. Once he was standing, Sherlock hissed and closed his eyes. The smile which had been on his lips vanished.

“Sherlock, are you alright?” John asked and stood up as well. However, Sherlock held up his hand to stop him when he moved closer.

“I'm fine. Just moved the wrong way, I think.” His expression turned neutral again. “What do you think about breakfast? I'm starving.”

He already wanted to walk past John and leave the room, but he stopped him. “Oh no, you're not just leaving like this.” John said sternly and grabbed Sherlock's arm. “I know that you're in pain.”

“I'm not.” Sherlock replied immediately.

“You are. I can see it. And now let me look at it or I'll have to force you to the bathroom.” John's voice didn't leave room to argue. For a few seconds, they stared at each other challengingly. Then Sherlock sighed in defeat.

“Alright, you win. I can see when there's no chance to win this argument.” He didn't sound happy, but let John lead him to the bathroom. He knew that they would have to talk about the night as well, but right now Sherlock's well-being was more important.

“You already tried to avoid this conversation yesterday when you started to talk about Mrs. Hudson.” John muttered. “I just want to help you.”

“I'm not starting a discussion with you, John. I already said that you won.” It was strange that Sherlock didn't argue that much. Because honestly, John had expected a huge fight about this.

When Sherlock took off his shirt and threw it onto the ground carelessly, John realized why he didn't argue that much. It was obvious that Sherlock was in pain. His back looked even worse than the rest of his body. There were so many scars and cuts that John started to feel sick again.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded to know.

“No use in asking. They're either locked up or dead.” Sherlock said it calmly, but John could see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“Good. Otherwise, I might have felt the urge to kill them myself.” John muttered when he began to search for everything he needed. “I need to disinfect them, that's going to hurt.”

“I'm not made of glass, John.” Sherlock muttered and rolled his eyes.

For some time, John took care of Sherlock's several injuries silently. He knew that Sherlock was watching him closely while he did. However, neither of them said a word.

In the end, it was John who broke the silence. “Thank you for staying tonight. You didn't have to.”

“I did.” Sherlock replied slowly. “And it's alright. I couldn't sleep either way. That's why I heard your scream in the first place.” So Sherlock really had problems with sleep. It seemed as if John's presence had helped him with that problem as well.

“I'm really glad that you're back.” John admitted after lots of hesitation. “I know that I should be angry because of all those lies, but it won't work.”

“You were angry yesterday.” Sherlock noted. “However, you were too overwhelmed to act upon it.”

“That's true.” He muttered. Even now he was still confused. Too many things happened in a too short amount of time.

“I'm glad to be back as well.” Sherlock broke the silence which was about to surround them again. “The past two years have been very long.”

“Felt like ten years or more.” John muttered thoughtfully. “Time didn't seem to pass at all.”

“You have to tell me what you've been doing.” Now he sounded urgent. “I need to know.”

“So do I.” John threw in.

Sherlock breathed in deeply. “I... can't talk about it... Not yet.” He hesitated. “I'll tell you one day.”

In this moment, that was enough for John. “Whenever you're ready.”

“Thank you, John.”

“To your unspoken question. Most of the time, I worked or stayed at home.” John explained slowly.

Sherlock frowned. “What about all your friends?”

“You mean Greg?”

“Who's Greg?” There was real confusion on Sherlock's face.

John rolled his eyes and began to collect his things. He'd cleaned and bandaged Sherlock's wounds. Now he just had to give him something against the pain. “Greg Lestrade. He's also got a first name, Sherlock.”

“Lestrade's first name is _Greg_?”

John decided to ignore this question. “We've met regularly.”

“And you're helping him on cases occasionally.” Sherlock said and now he was sounding strange.

“He asked me to.” John nodded with a frown. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Sherlock replied immediately. “So when will you help Lestrade again?”

John narrowed his eyes. “Something's clearly wrong. What's bothering you?”

“As I said, nothing.”

Then it hit him. “Sherlock Holmes, are you jealous because I'm going on cases with someone else?” Somehow, John couldn't stop himself from smiling.

“Of course not, that's stupid and you know it.” Sherlock muttered and stood up. “I was just surprised, nothing else.”

This reaction only confirmed John's presumption. “You're jealous.” He chuckled. “Going on cases with Greg is nothing compared to how it was with you. Far too uneventful.”

Only because he'd been watching Sherlock closely, John noticed that he relaxed at this statement. His heart was beating faster with excitement. Sherlock had never shown a reaction like this before. But what did it mean?

“And next to that? What about Mrs. Hudson?” Sherlock was clearly trying to change the subject.

“She's alright. And I bet she'll be angry with you when she sees you again.”

“She can never stay angry for too long.” Sherlock shrugged, but the movement seemed to hurt since he flinched.

“Come on, painkillers are in the kitchen.” John said and left the bathroom. After a few moments, he heard footsteps and knew that Sherlock was following him. “And there's no one next to Greg and Mrs. Hudson.” He kept talking. “Alright, we found a new friend and she's alright, but nothing else. Greg and Mary tried to find me a date on several occasions, but I've never been interested.”

“You and not interested?” Sherlock sounded curious and there was something else in his voice John couldn't quite place. Something he'd never heard before.

“Nope. I wasn't in the mood for dating. And the guys weren't my type at all.” He'd just handed Sherlock the painkillers and he was swallowing them with lots of water, but at John's words, he choked. Only then John realized what he'd just said. To the others, it wasn't a secret anymore that John was gay. However, this information was new to Sherlock.

Sherlock stared at him wide-eyed and opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out.

John raised his eyebrows. “Everything alright?”

“Yes. You just surprised me, nothing else.” Sherlock muttered and John didn't believe a single word he said. He also didn't miss the curious look on Sherlock's face he'd tried to hide so quickly.

“Because I said guys instead of women?” John knew it was stupid to keep talking about it, but right now, he needed to know what Sherlock was thinking. Would he regret a night in John's bed if he found out that he was gay after all?

“You always said that you were not gay.” Sherlock noted.

“That's what I thought back then. Seemed like someone's proven me wrong.” He looked at Sherlock meaningfully, but from the confused frown on his face, John knew that he didn't understand what he wanted to tell him. Maybe it was better this way.

“It's just... I...” Sherlock started, his eyes never meeting John's. “I didn't expect you to be... I mean... Me too.”

Did he really just say what John thought he'd said? He stared at him. “You are...?”

“You never asked.” Sherlock muttered and smiled slightly.

Just in that moment, John's phone rang and interrupted their conversation. John wasn't sure if he should be glad or annoyed because of this. When he left the room to grab his phone, he could feel Sherlock's eyes on his back. Maybe he'd understood what John wanted to tell him after all.

While he answered the call, only one thought was repeating itself in John's mind. Sherlock Holmes was gay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter five! Thank you all for reading this so far and for all the support! Soon, we've reached the last chapter for now. I'm currently writing chapter 8, which will be finished this weekend. Then I hope that I can keep my current schedule and write one chapter every week. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this one! 
> 
> I don't own the characters or places!

“ _Hey John, you won't believe what happened!_ ” Greg exclaimed once John answered the call.

John chuckled. “Oh, I'll believe everything you tell me.” He muttered, his eyes wandering to Sherlock who was still in the kitchen and eyed him curiously. “So what happened?”

“ _Are you alright?_ ” Greg asked. “ _You sound nervous. Or no, rather confused._ ”

He fought back a sigh. Greg knew him too well by now. “It's nothing. So now tell me. I can literally feel your excitement.”

“ _I'll get to know what's wrong, John._ ” Greg said warningly, but then he changed the subject. “ _We found the murderer of Mrs. Brightwood!_ ”

“That's great! Was it the neighbour?” John asked, remembering his suggestion the previous day. Had it really been just yesterday that he'd searched the flat of the victim together with Greg? It felt like years.

“ _Yes, it was._ ” He confirmed. “ _First, we were all sceptical about it. But I just couldn't get it out of my head, so I told the local police to check on him. Once they showed up at his door, he ran away. They caught him and we questioned him this morning. He admitted the crime, together with a few others._ ”

John was surprised to hear this. Apparently, Greg had already been busy on a Saturday morning. “So the case is closed now? Congratulations, I know how heavily it's been weighing on all of you.”

“ _And you solved it, John._ ” Greg emphasized. “ _Without you, we would still be searching the house of the sister._ ”

“Did you even question her now?” John asked and glanced at Sherlock again. He was coming closer slowly and John knew that he hated not knowing what was going on.

“ _No, unnecessary. She wasn't even in the city when it happened anyway._ ”

“As I said, would have been too easy.” Now Sherlock sat down in his usual armchair. He was frowning at John and somehow, he looked unhappy. Not the usual frustration he showed when he was bored – this was different. Ever since Sherlock had shown up again the previous evening, John had seen this look on his face a few times and it bothered him. Sherlock shouldn't look unhappy, not now that he was back.

“ _You're really good at this, did I ever tell you that?_ ”

John's lips twitched. “A few times. So I assume that you won't be coming over today?” Now that the case was closed, there was no reason for Greg to come. And somehow, John didn't mind. After all, Sherlock was back.

“ _I'm sorry, but there aren't any new cases right now. Once something happens, I'll call you._ ” Greg hesitated. “ _Maybe we could meet later before I meet the others at the bar? We could drink coffee together._ ” Apparently, Greg wanted to find out what was wrong.

John glanced at Sherlock. “I think today won't be a good idea. Yesterday evening, something happened. Someone broke into my flat, to be exact. You won't believe who it was. And besides, I still have to do grocery shopping with Mrs. Hudson.”

“ _Someone broke into your flat? Are you alright?_ ” Greg's voice was louder now and John could hear his disbelief, together with concern. Next to him, Sherlock frowned and raised an eyebrow.

“I'm fine.” John assured him. “I'll tell you everything soon. Maybe tomorrow, I'm not sure yet.”

“ _I will come over tomorrow, if you want it or not._ ”

He sighed. “Alright, tomorrow, then.”

“ _I didn't hear you this nervous in some time. Not until we forced you to talk to this guy. What was his name? Glen?_ ”

“Ben.” John corrected him and rolled his eyes. “And it's not like this, you know that very well. I won't tell you what happened over the phone, Greg. I'm still trying to process this.”

“ _You're speaking in riddles, Dr. Watson. But alright, then we'll talk tomorrow. Don't worry, I won't be dying of curiosity until then._ ”

“That's good. Bye, Greg.” John didn't wait for a reply and ended the call. He threw his phone on the table next to his armchair and sat down.

“Who's Ben?” Sherlock asked slowly and John sighed.

“I really don't want to talk about this.”

“You met him at a bar.” Sherlock deduced. “He was interested in you, but you weren't sure if it was alright to talk to him. Lestrade forced you to do it. First, you thought that he was nice. But then he moved closer and he... he wanted to kiss you. You left without looking back.” Sherlock frowned. “Why would you do that?”

John stared at him. “Didn't feel right.” He said simply and shrugged. “And no, I don't want to continue talking about this. You already know the whole story now.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something else, but at a warning look from John, he shut it again. Instead, he just looked at him curiously and there was a slight frown on his face. He was still watching John closely.

“How does breakfast sound to you?” John asked and stood up. “After all, you said that you're starving.” Honestly, John was hungry as well. The last thing he'd eaten was a sandwich the previous afternoon.

He walked to the kitchen and after a few seconds, he heard Sherlock's footsteps behind him. “What did Lestrade want?” He tried to let it sound casual, but John could hear the sharp edge in Sherlock's voice.

“Wanted to tell me that a case I've been helping them with is solved now.” John explained while he started to make breakfast. There wasn't much food left, so toast would have to do it for now. He would have to write a list later. Now that Sherlock was back, they would need even more things again. Suddenly, he remembered that Mrs. Hudson didn't know about Sherlock's return yet! And she wanted to come upstairs in the afternoon. That would be fun...

“From what I've heard, it sounded like _you_ solved it, John.” Sherlock noted and when John glanced at him, he saw that Sherlock was smiling.

“It was only an idea.” John shrugged. “I think Greg didn't understand it at first.”

“But he checked it either way. Because he trusts your instincts.” At those words, Sherlock bowed his head and there was a gleam in his eyes.

“It surprised me when he first asked me to go on a case with him.” John explained. “I didn't expect him to want my advice.”

“Of course he wants it.” Sherlock argued. “He's not stupid, after all.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“Come on, John. I've always said that your knowledge considering deductions can be helpful.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You should know that by now.”

“In the end, it has always been you who solved the case.” John noted.

“I wouldn't have been able to solve all of them on my own. Once we started to investigate together, the success rate has risen significantly.” Sherlock said it lightly, but John could see the seriousness in his eyes.

John grinned. “Well, then let's see if we can keep that rate now that you're back.”

“I bet we will.” Sherlock grinned back at him, but then his smile faltered. “Mycroft has told me that you restored my reputation.” There was wonder in his voice and John raised his eyebrows.

“Does this surprise you?” He wanted to know.

“Not everyone would have done this, considering how annoying the press can be.” Sherlock paused. “You couldn't be sure that they'd leave you alone after one interview. Or that they'll believe you at all.”

“But they did.” John noted.

“Yes, surprisingly, they did.” Sherlock nodded thoughtfully.

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I couldn't stand it, hearing all those stories about the 'Lying Detective' as they called it. It made me sick. I had to do something.”

“You called Mycroft and he arranged everything.” Sherlock grimaced. “So I also have to thank him for this?”

John chuckled. “Seems so. But you don't have to thank me, Sherlock. It's what friends do.”

“What if I want to thank you?” Sherlock hesitated and looked down at the table. During their conversation, John had finished making breakfast and now Sherlock stared into his cup of tea. “I know that I haven't been fair to you in the last days before I... You know what I mean.”

“Sherlock, it's alright -” John started, but Sherlock interrupted him.

“No, it's not. I _know_ that, John! I also knew it back then. But I wanted to keep you out of this business with Moriarty, even if it meant that you would also believe that I'm a liar.” He swallowed. “I had to keep you safe. Moriarty was too dangerous. Too unpredictable. And having you with me meant that I was also putting your life at risk. I couldn't do it.”

“You could have talked to me, you know? We could have figured it out together.” John smiled sadly. “How could you ever think that I'd believe all those stupid lies they were telling about you? I know you, Sherlock. You're not a liar. You're brilliant and sometimes you can be incredibly annoying, but you're not a fake.”

For some time, Sherlock was just silent and avoided to look at John. He watched him closely and tried to interpret the look on Sherlock's face, but he failed. There was a mixture of emotions and he only recognized some of them. Disbelief. Concern. Happiness. The others were a riddle to John.

“Thank you.” Sherlock's voice was barely a whisper, but he looked up and their eyes met. “For believing in me.”

Just like that, the subject seemed to be settled for Sherlock. John knew that talking about feelings made his friend uncomfortable and that was all they'd done ever since Sherlock returned. So John followed Sherlock's example and began to eat his breakfast. For some time, they ate in silence, but then Sherlock couldn't stand it anymore.

“Tell me about the case. The one you solved for Greg.”

So John did that. Of course Sherlock knew about the murderer as soon as John told him the basics, but he kept talking anyway. Sherlock kept making comments on how stupid they've been and that Lestrade's team didn't do their research properly and soon, they were both laughing about all the mistakes they've made. When the story about this case was finished, Sherlock demanded to know more. With each case, the disbelief on Sherlock's face became more obvious.

“How did you even solve a single case without me?” Sherlock asked in the end and shook his head. “It seems like you've been just guessing most of the time.”

John rolled his eyes. “Come on, it wasn't that bad.”

“It was and you know it.” Sherlock argued. “From what you just told me, you could have solved at least half of the cases just by looking at the crime scene.”

“Not everyone is as good as you are.” John held up his hands in defeat. “Now that you're back, you can show us how it works again.”

“Seems like I have to do this. Apparently, you've forgotten the basics in the last two years.” Sherlock muttered, but he was smiling.

“The people will be thrilled when we go on cases again.” John noted. “Sherlock Holmes and his blogger are back.”

“No.” Sherlock shook his head. “Sherlock Holmes and his _partner_ Dr. John Watson are back. We were always a team, John.”

John smiled at Sherlock, but there was a numb feeling in his stomach. Yes, they'd always been a team. Just that it didn't feel like that in the end. When Sherlock had pushed him away. He had to remind himself that Sherlock did all those things to keep him safe. This made him feel a little better again.

“You know that I really didn't want to hurt you.” Sherlock, who'd watched John closely in the past minute, explained.

“I know.” John nodded and breathed in deeply. “It'll be alright.” He didn't know what else he could say, so he started to collect the things on the table and started to clean up. When Sherlock wanted to help him, John looked at him warningly. “Sit down again, you're still injured.”

“I feel fine, John.” Sherlock muttered.

“Because of the painkillers.” He argued. “You need rest, Sherlock. Your injuries have to heal.”

“You know that I can't sit still very well. That's just so boring!”

John sighed. “Mrs. Hudson will come upstairs later and then you'll have to explain to her why you pretended to be dead for two years. You can already expect lots of yelling, she was really upset after your death.” How easy it was to say this now. A few days ago, he couldn't even bring himself to think of the fact that Sherlock was dead. “Tomorrow, Lestrade will come. Maybe he'll have a case for you once the shock of your presence fades.”

At this, Sherlock's eyes started to shine.

“Just thinking about it, no going out.” John said sternly. “If you push yourself too far, the injuries will never heal.”

“But John -” Sherlock started again, however he interrupted him.

“No, you'll listen to me now, Sherlock!” John crossed his arms. “You're injured and in pain. I've seen your injuries and you need rest. I'm the doctor and just this once, you'll do what I say. I won't watch you run out of here in this state, not after everything I've been through in those past years! I don't want to worry about you now that I've just got you back, understood?”

He'd already expected a huge fight. However, Sherlock just watched him closely and in the end, he nodded. “Fine.” He agreed. “And now give me something to read, I have to know what's going on in the world.” Without waiting for a reply, Sherlock stood up and walked to John's laptop. It didn't surprise him that Sherlock knew the password, even if he'd changed it recently. With a sigh, John walked towards the bathroom. He needed a long, hot shower.

* * *

“Mrs. Hudson is on her way upstairs.” Sherlock said, breaking the silence in the flat. After the hot shower, John had found Sherlock lying on the couch, the laptop in his hands. He was reading a few articles and from time to time, he made comments. So John had grabbed the latest newspaper and started reading as well. However, there weren't many news. Just a politician that was missing, but it rather looked like he was on a holiday than kidnapping.

“No, she'll grab her list for grocery shopping first.” John muttered absent-mindedly. “After that, she'll look if there are any missed calls on her phone. And she always needs some time to find her bag, she keeps throwing it somewhere once she gets home and most of the time, she doesn't find it that fast. Sometimes, she even cleans the floor first. She's got a new vacuum cleaner she's very proud of. So I think we'll have five more minutes.”

His words were followed by silence and when John looked up, he noticed that Sherlock was staring at him. “Why are you looking at me like this?” John asked.

“I have no idea what you mean.” Sherlock answered immediately.

He raised his eyebrows. “You look surprised.”

“I don't.”

“You do.” John noted. “So what's going on in your mind?”

“It seems like I've forgotten just how good you are at deducing things.” If John was correct, he could hear wonder in Sherlock's voice and something else, but he wasn't so sure.

He shrugged. “It's been like this for nearly two years. I know her habits.”

“It's not just that.” Sherlock argued. “You _are_ good at this, John.”

He chuckled. “I had the best teacher. And I take that as a compliment.”

“It is.” Sherlock muttered, but he'd already turned his attention to the screen again. Did he just imagine it or did Sherlock look flattered when John told him that he'd the best teacher? After a few seconds, Sherlock spoke again. “You told them that I'm the best man you've ever known?”

“Excuse me?” John had also just begun to read the next article in the paper, but now he looked up again.

“In the interview with the press.” Sherlock added.

“Did I?” John asked, even if he already knew that answer. Yes, he'd told them that Sherlock was the best man he'd ever known. As well as many more things he just had to get out. Like how important their friendship had been to him or how alone he felt without Sherlock in his life. It was strange to know that Sherlock was reading all this now. Back then, John thought that he'd never get a chance to tell him all those things.

“You did. Together with a few other interesting things.” Sherlock said thoughtfully. His eyes were scanning the article. He looked concentrated now and John looked back at his newspaper, even if he didn't continue reading anymore. His mind was racing. Of course he'd told Sherlock many personal things in the past hours, but this was different. He remembered the interview as if it'd been yesterday. Most of all, the last questions.

_"He wasn't just your partner in work. He was also your best friend. I bet you miss him." The reporter, Kelly, had asked._

_"I do." He'd answered simply._

_"What would you tell him now, in this moment, if he'd still be with us?"_

_John had looked at her thoughtfully. "What would I tell him? That's a good question… I would say thank you. For everything."_

_She smiled. “Would you like to explain that?”_

“ _He changed my whole life. Before, it was kind of boring and uneventful. I just came back from the war and didn't know what to do with myself. With Sherlock, everything was different. For the first time, I had a real friend. Of course we had our issues, but I knew that I could always count on him. He was the most important person in my life. I loved going on cases with him, but even the times when we weren't out there were never boring. He gave my life a meaning.”_

After that, Kelly had ended the interview. It had been published a few days later and to John's surprise, the people had believed him. Suddenly, Sherlock Holmes was a hero again and Jim Moriarty the brilliant criminal he'd really been. Thanks to Mycroft, John wasn't bothered by reporters again.

“I meant every word I said to her.” John said and Sherlock looked up from the screen. There was surprise on his face and he just opened his mouth to say something when they heard footsteps on the stairs.

“It's Mrs. Hudson!” John exclaimed and jumped to his feet. “Get out of sight or she'll get a heart attack!” Luckily, Sherlock just did what he was told. He placed the laptop on the table and walked to the kitchen where he sat down on a chair.

There was a soft knock and then Mrs. Hudson walked into the room. “John, my dear, are you ready?” She asked with a wide smile. “We have to hurry, otherwise we will never finish looking through all those old photographs later.” She looked around and frowned. “Did you see my umbrella? It's raining outside and I was sure that I'd placed it in front of your door last week.”

“Well, that's an interesting story, Mrs. Hudson.” John began hesitantly. He was still trying to figure out the best way to tell her the news, but the idea wouldn't come. According to Sherlock, it was best just to tell her the facts. However, John didn't want to be that heartless.

She frowned. “What happened? You look so nervous, John.”

He breathed in deeply. “I just had an unexpected visitor yesterday. He broke into my flat, to be exact.”

Mrs. Hudson stared at him. “Don't tell me that you used my umbrella as a weapon. It was very old!”

“I'll get you a new one.” John said sheepishly. “It was very stable, to be honest.”

“Who was the visitor?” She asked now and there was a frown on her face.

“Well...” John began and hesitated. How could he tell her this?

“My god, John! Just tell her everything!” Sherlock's loud voice echoed through the room and seconds after that, he walked out of the kitchen.

The reaction was just as John expected. Mrs. Hudson cried out and stumbled. He just had enough time to catch her before she fell to the ground. Luckily, she didn't lose consciousness. She was just breathing heavily and stared at Sherlock wide-eyed. “But how... This is impossible!”

“It isn't and you know it. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here.” Sherlock said simply.

“I also thought that I was hallucinating first.” John tried to calm her down. “I'm still not sure if this is real, to be honest.”

He helped Mrs. Hudson to sit down on the couch. “You were alive all this time?”

Sherlock looked at John expectantly, but he just shook his head. He would have to explain everything by himself. Which he did. However, he didn't tell Mrs. Hudson  _how_ he did it and John was glad about it. He didn't want to know that yet. 

In the end, they had to calm down a crying Mrs. Hudson who tried to hit Sherlock several times. John stepped between them, afraid that she might cause Sherlock more pain by hitting his injuries.

Even if she was quite angry, Mrs. Hudson calmed down faster than expected. She even forced John to leave for shopping with her, saying that Sherlock would be fine for a few hours by himself. While he was shopping with her, John already feared that it all might have been just a dream, but when he entered 221 B again later, Sherlock was still there, sitting in his armchair.

He smiled widely when John entered the flat.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the characters or places!

Luckily, Mrs. Hudson didn't want to look at photographs that evening. Sherlock's return had shocked her far too much and she wanted to lie down early. John didn't mind that, he preferred to be with Sherlock anyway. He still wasn't completely sure that his friend was back. It felt like a dream that was too good to be true.

Once John returned from shopping, Sherlock started to ask questions about certain events that had taken place in the past two years. Unfortunately, John couldn't answer many of them. To be honest, those things hadn't interested him very much. Sherlock seemed to realize this as well.

“My god, John, what did you do in those past two years? Sit here and stare into the air?” Sherlock asked incredulously, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

This assumption was so close to the reality that John nearly choked on his tea. He coughed and when he looked up again, he saw that Sherlock was staring at him wide-eyed, a look of shock on his face. John had already feared that Sherlock might see the full extend of his damage the previous day, but surprisingly, he didn't. Unlike now. In this moment, John knew that Sherlock could see everything he's been through in those past two years just by looking at his face.

It was obvious that the realization hit him hard. Sherlock was pale and opened his mouth several times to say something, but no words would come out. That rarely happened to him. Then an incredible sadness appeared on his face and John cursed inwardly for being such a bad actor. Why couldn't he just stay calm when Sherlock asked that stupid question?

“John...” Sherlock started, but then he hesitated.

“Don't.” He muttered. “Don't say anything. I can't... Just don't.” John didn't want to hear Sherlock's deductions now. He still feared that Sherlock would leave him, now that he knew how devastated John had been after his fake death. It was still hard for him, even if Sherlock was back.

Before Sherlock could say anything else, John had left the living room. It was late anyway, so he could also go to bed.

Of course the nightmares were haunting him again. This time, he didn't see Sherlock jump. Just like the previous night, the scene changed. This time, it was Moriarty who shot Sherlock and there was nothing John could do to save him. While he tried to stop the bleeding, Moriarty laughed.

When John woke up, screaming, it took only seconds before the door flew open and Sherlock stormed into the room. There was a look of alarm on his face and John noticed that he was still wearing the same clothes as the previous evening. Didn't he also go to bed?

“John, are you alright?” Sherlock asked and hesitated in the doorway.

“Bad dream, I'm fine.” John muttered and ran a hand through his hair. He tried to control his breathing. “Shouldn't you be sleeping?”

“You woke me.” Was the immediate reply.

“You're still wearing the same clothes as last evening.” John said tiredly. “And if you would have been in your room, it would have taken you longer to be here once you heard me scream. You were still in the living room.”

“A solid deduction.” Sherlock whispered. He was still standing in the doorway and when John's eyes got used to the darkness, he could see indecision on his face.

“You should also try to get some sleep.”

“It's alright.”

John frowned at him. “But you must be tired. After all, you're injured and the painkillers won't make that better. Besides, I saw you yawn when you pretended to read the newspaper.”

“Since when do you notice so much?” Sherlock muttered, but he didn't sound annoyed.

“I know you, Sherlock. So why don't you want to sleep?” John demanded to know.

“Who says that I don't want to sleep?” He shot back.

“Otherwise, you would be in bed.“

“I don't need that much sleep.”

John sighed. “Sherlock.” He didn't know what else to say so he just sank back down onto the mattress and closed his eyes. “I know when something's wrong.”

“But I'm fine.”

“And I don't believe you!”

“You're not the only one who has nightmares!” Until now, they'd both been whispering. Sherlock's loud voice echoed through the room and made John flinch. He looked at his best friend again.

“Do you want to talk about it? It's fine if you don't. I know how difficult it is.”

To his surprise, Sherlock came closer and sat down on the bed. “What did you see that made you scream?” He asked instead of answering the question.

“You.” John said simply. “Every night, I see you. Normally, you jump from that rooftop, but now it was different.”

“What was it this time?” Sherlock sounded curious.

John breathed in deeply. “Moriarty.”

“Oh.” After this, Sherlock was quiet for some time. John already thought that he wouldn't say anything else when he spoke again. “I see different things every night. Regardless, it always happens the same.”

John knew not to pressure Sherlock so he remained silent. It worked, after some time, Sherlock continued. “Moriarty always finds you, John. Or his accomplices do. There's nothing I can do to stop them.”

John froze. Sherlock was dreaming of his death? He'd expected anything, but not this. “You dream that... that Moriarty kills _me_?” He asked incredulously.

Sherlock laughed dryly. “Oh come on, John. You know how important you are to me.”

He knew that he was Sherlock's only friend and that he would do many things to make sure that John was safe. However, this felt huge. Knowing that Sherlock was as afraid of losing John as he was of Sherlock's death...

He decided not to voice his thoughts. “Seems like we've both got our sleeping issues.” He muttered weakly, but it worked. Sherlock chuckled.

“We've always known that we're crazy.”

“You mean yourself. I'm perfectly normal. Or I was before I met you.”

“The latter.” Sherlock whispered and John could hear from his voice that he was smiling.

There was another pause. “John... I've never told you how important you are to me.” He sounded uncomfortable now.

“You don't need to say it, Sherlock. I know.” John said softly. He moved aside and made space for Sherlock. “And now come on, we both need some sleep.”

“You want me to stay.” Sherlock sounded surprised and there was something else in his voice John couldn't quite place. He would have loved to see his face now.

“Do you want to tell me that you didn't sleep well last night? Now come on. Or are you afraid of what people might think?” Yes, Sherlock had admitted that he was gay. However, that didn't mean that he was attracted to John. Or that he wanted others to know about it at all.

“You know that I don't care about that.” When Sherlock climbed into bed next to him, John tensed. However, he was able to relax again after a few seconds. Sherlock always had this effect on him.

Sherlock was lying with his back to John, but soon, he turned around and they were facing each other. They both didn't say anything, though. At least not for a while.

“You're not damaged, if that's what you think.” Sherlock said and John opened his eyes again. He'd already thought that he was asleep. “You're still the John Watson I know. Those past two years didn't change that.”

John swallowed. “What if they did?” He was afraid that Sherlock still might not understand the full extent of his trauma.

“They didn't.” Sherlock argued simply. “Yes, you've been through so much. And yes, it might take some time until you're over it. However, this doesn't change who you are.”

Was this true? Could John really heal and would everything be the same as before? Well, maybe not the same. Too much had happened for that. But could things be good again? When he looked at Sherlock's face that showed so much patience right now, John knew that yes, they could. Everything would be fine again.

“Now let us sleep. After all, this was your idea.” John could see the smile on Sherlock's lips and closed his eyes.

It didn't take long until he fell asleep again. This time, there were no nightmares.

* * *

“Greg will be here in ten minutes.” John announced. It was Sunday morning. John was reading a book while Sherlock looked through a few of his things John had kept in boxes for the last two years.

“You didn't throw anything away.” Sherlock muttered, sounding surprised.

“No, I already told you this.” John replied. “Did you hear what I said, Sherlock? Greg will be here soon.”

“You even kept that stupid hat!” Sherlock took it out of the box and grimaced.

“It's not stupid and you know this.” He sighed. “Be nice to Greg, will you? He really missed you.”

“Why should Lestrade miss me?” Sherlock raised his eyebrows sceptically.

“Even if you're not capable of human emotions, others are.” John said simply. “He always considered you a friend.”

“He doesn't have to come over now.” Sherlock muttered. “I'd prefer to have some peace.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So my presence also disturbs you?”

This time, Sherlock frowned at him. “No, why would I think that?”

“Nevermind.” John shook his head slowly. “Greg also says that they've got a new case.” He added after a few moments and smiled slightly. “Something mysterious.”

That's what did it. Suddenly, the box with his belongings was forgotten and Sherlock looked at the clock. “You said that he'll be here soon?”

John nodded with a grin. “Yes, and maybe you should change your clothes first.” Sherlock was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, something no one except for John ever saw him in. He'd chosen it because it was more comfortable with all his injuries, which John had tended again this morning. “And dry your hair. It's still a wet mess.”

Sherlock grimaced, but he didn't protest. He walked to his room and John could hear the door slam shut. He smiled to himself. It was so good to have Sherlock back. Suddenly, all those dark days of the past years seemed like a bad dream. However, then he saw Sherlock's injuries and John knew that it hadn't been a dream. Those dark months had been real. The new worry lines on Sherlock's face also confirmed this.

By now, John was convinced that they would get over this. Someday, they would be able to forget Moriarty and their time apart. Everything would be fine again. And maybe it might happen sooner than expected.

To his surprise, it hadn't been awkward when they woke up in John's bed this morning. Not even when they'd discovered that they'd moved closer in their sleep and one of John's arms was wrapped around Sherlock's waist. Of course they didn't mention this and pretended it didn't happen. Then they got up and started their day as if everything was normal. Which it was, in a way.

John's phone rang and took him back to reality. It was a text from Greg.

**Just arrived, coming upstairs. -GL**

Two minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door and Greg walked into the flat. He was wearing jeans and a pullover, so John knew that he wasn't on duty. At least not yet. He looked tired, most probably from the party he'd attended the previous evening, or maybe because of the new case that arrived this morning. When he saw John, he smiled. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Greg.” They hugged each other shortly.

“So what happened yesterday? Who broke into your flat? And why on earth should someone do that?” Greg raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“That's a rather long story.” John began hesitantly. He knew that Sherlock would come back from his room any moment and he didn't want Greg to panic just like Mrs. Hudson did. On the other hand, Greg couldn't be surprised that easily... “It wasn't a burglar, if that's what you think.”

Greg frowned. “But who else should -”

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In this moment, they heard footsteps and Sherlock appeared in the doorway. His hair was dry now and he was wearing trousers and a white shirt, together with a black suit jacket. “I see that our visitor has already arrived.” Sherlock stated and John turned around to look at Greg again.

He was staring at Sherlock wide-eyed and his face was pale. He opened his mouth to say something several times, but no words would come out. “That's impossible.” He whispered in the end.

“By now, you should know that nothing's impossible, Lestrade.” Sherlock said simply.

To John's surprise, Greg closed the distance between himself and Sherlock and hugged him tightly. Even from the distance John could see that Sherlock stiffened at the contact. When he took a step back again, Greg looked from Sherlock to John and back. “So Sherlock broke into your flat?”

“Yes, he did.” John muttered. “Why don't we sit down and talk about everything with a cup of tea?” He suggested and Greg, who still looked quite overwhelmed, nodded.

Luckily, John had already made the tea and just had to get it from the kitchen. In the meantime, Sherlock sat down in his armchair and Greg grabbed the chair that hadn't been used in years.

“So now tell me, how can you be here? I mean, you _died_.” He asked curiously and with a slightly concerned glance at John. Of course Sherlock noticed this and his eyes narrowed. 

“Wrong. It just _looked_ as if I'd died.” He emphasized. “It was necessary.” 

“And we don't want to know how he did it.” John threw in warningly and Greg understood immediately that John wasn't ready to talk about this part of the story.

“Why did you do it?” He asked instead.

Now Sherlock explained the situation with Moriarty again. That he had snipers placed in three different locations who were going to kill Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade and John if he left that rooftop alive. That's why he had to improvise and make it look like he'd died on that day.

After the explanation, Greg stared at him. “You could have told us that you're alive after this!” He shouted.

“Too dangerous. Moriarty's network was still intact. I had to take care of it first.” Sherlock stated.

“You destroyed his whole network?” Greg repeated. “All by yourself?”

“I didn't have a choice.” Sherlock nodded. “I couldn't risk your safety.” While saying this, his eyes locked with John's.

“It wasn't easy for him.” John threw in. “That's also why it took him so long.”

“And then you just break into John's flat and start a huge fight...” Greg muttered and shook his head in disbelief.

“John hit me first.” Sherlock crossed his arms.

“With Mrs. Hudson's umbrella.” John whispered to Greg and smiled slightly. “It was a good weapon. Even if I had to buy her a new one yesterday.”

“Let me guess.” Greg was also grinning now. “Sherlock's head was too hard and it broke when you hit him?”

“Exactly.” John agreed and they both chuckled. Sherlock had followed his short exchange with a frown on his face. Slowly, John wondered what was wrong with him. He'd never behaved like this around Lestrade before.

“He scared me to death.” John said now. “I'm still not completely sure if this isn't a dream.”

“It can't be a dream.” Greg said thoughtfully. “Far too peaceful.”

“True.” John muttered. He'd never told Greg about his nightmares, but his friend had guessed about them a long time ago.

“I have to apologize.” Greg said suddenly and looked at Sherlock. “For even considering that all those lies about you could be true.”

“Moriarty had fooled everyone.” Sherlock said simply.

“It's not that easy.” Greg sighed. “I _knew_ that it couldn't be true. You're the most brilliant man I know. However, everyone else around me had those doubts and at some point, I began to doubt everything as well. I've regretted not believing in you all this time.” 

“Stop apologizing, Lestrade. It is what it is.” Sherlock shrugged. “Let's not talk about it anymore. My reputation has been restored thanks to John and that's everything that counts.” He leaned forward. “John said you had a new case. Tell me about it.”

Greg exchanged another look with John, who just shrugged.

“A politician has vanished.” Greg started and Sherlock grimaced.

“Oh no, not this guy who was in the papers yesterday? Who is on a vacation with his affair?”

“How do you know that?” John asked curiously.

“It was obvious.” Sherlock muttered. “They're in Spain together.”

“Well... alright.” Greg muttered. “But that's not what I meant. Someone else has vanished a few days ago. She was reported missing this morning. Her name's Angela White, I don't know if you've heard about her.”

“Isn't she the one who wanted to stop the coal production?” John asked.

“Partly.” Greg nodded. “She's a fierce environmentalist.”

“Maybe that's why I've never heard of her.” Sherlock threw in. “Most probably, she'll just show up again soon.” 

“My people were at her house this morning.” Greg explained. “It was a complete mess. Apparently, someone has searched for something.”

“What do you know about her?”

“She was never noticeable before. Went to lots of demonstrations, but that's not surprising, considering what she's doing. She's living alone and doesn't have many friends. My people are questioning a few of them now. And we're looking into her political work.”

Sherlock groaned. “I thought you had an interesting case for me, Lestrade!” He muttered. “But this is a joke.”

John and Greg looked at each other questioningly. “So you know what happened?” John asked.

Sherlock nodded. “I already told you that looking at the basics is the best way to solve a case.”

“Would you enlighten us?” Greg threw in.

“You're hopeless.” Sherlock muttered. “She's a politician and an environmentalist. Now she's just vanished. She doesn't have a family and not many friends, who won't know much about her, by the way. Her house looks like it's been searched, but I bet nothing will be missing except for a few personal documents that aren't related to her work at all. She left the country to start a new life. I would bet that she's somewhere in Asia, by the looks of it. You should check this, Lestrade.”

They both stared at Sherlock. “You're joking, aren't you?”

From the look on his face, John could tell that Sherlock was completely serious.

“I'll check that.” Greg said in the end. He sounded quite insecure and John couldn't blame him.

“The next time you come with a case, make sure that it's something interesting.” Sherlock told him.

His words were followed by silence. In the end, it was Greg who spoke again. “Did you hear anything new from Mary?” He asked John. “She wanted to return yesterday and said that she'd call.”

Honestly, John had completely forgotten about her. “No. Now that you say it, it's really strange. She always called or texted us.”

“I've tried to call her this morning, but her phone was turned off.” Greg explained.

“Maybe she was still working.” John suggested. “Where was she this time? Greece?”

“Egypt, I think.” Greg frowned.

“Who is this Mary?” Sherlock threw in. “You already mentioned her yesterday, John.”

“We met her at a bar about a year ago.” John explained. “She's quite nice. We meet regularly, but she's got to leave the country regularly because of her work.”

“What is she doing?” Sherlock asked.

“She's a nurse, but she's attending advanced training regularly.” Greg answered for him and Sherlock frowned.

“A nurse who's being trained abroad?”

“She doesn't like to talk about her job.” John said. “We've also tried to find out more, but she can be very stubborn if she wants to be.”

“Sounds like an interesting person.” Sherlock whispered thoughtfully. “I'd like to meet her someday.”

“I bet she'd also like to meet you.” Greg replied. “After all, John wouldn't stop talking about you.” He ignored that John glared at him and continued. “Actually, we met her because she was interested in John.”

“And I told her that I'm not interested right from the start.” John said sternly. “She wasn't disappointed, though.”

“Even tried to find him a boyfriend.” Greg grinned. “Which didn't work out very well.”

“Ben.” Sherlock noted and Greg nodded.

“We won't talk about this again!” John declared loudly. “And now tell me about the party last evening.”

Luckily, his attempt to change the subject worked. Soon, they were talking about many things, but Mary and Ben had been forgotten. At least for now.

Greg left about an hour later, after his phone rang. Of course Sherlock knew that it was his new girlfriend immediately. While Greg talked to her over the phone, Sherlock kept whispering his deductions about their relationship to John. It was fun and when Greg ended the call, they both couldn't stop themselves from laughing any longer.

“It's good that you're back.” Greg said to Sherlock right before he left. “I didn't see John this happy for a very long time.” He smiled at them one last time before he left the flat.

Once he was gone, they both looked at each other silently.

“I'm also glad that you're back.” John said silently.

“Me too.” Sherlock agreed. “And please tell Lestrade that he shouldn't come with a case like this again. Otherwise, I might die of boredom.”

Even if it was such a simple and harmless statement, John couldn't stop himself from flinching.

The smile on Sherlock's face vanished slowly and was replaced by concern. “I didn't...”

“I'll tell him to look for cases that look impossible to solve for you.” John replied, ignoring Sherlock's attempt to say something. “But only when you're better. You're still injured.”

Sherlock grimaced, but he didn't protest. “So what are we going to do now?” He asked.

“You will look at these photographs with me!” Mrs. Hudson's voice announced. “After all, John had promised to do it yesterday.”

“Do we really have to do that?” Sherlock whispered so that only John could hear him while Mrs. Hudson walked to the kitchen, carrying two big boxes.

“I think we don't have a choice.” John muttered.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7! Now I'm really curious to hear your thoughts to this! This time, we'll get to see Mycroft and something important will be revealed. 
> 
> I don't own the characters or places!

“You really don't have to stay, John.” Sherlock said for the fifth time. “I'll be fine alone.”

“As I said, I don't mind taking a few days off at work. And besides, I've still got so many free days, I should use them.” John argued. “You won't change my mind about this.”

Sherlock hesitated and John thought that he was about to roll his eyes, but then he just nodded. “Fine. But don't complain that a week at home together with me is too boring for you.”

John raised his eyebrows slowly. “Too boring for me?” He repeated his words incredulously. “Shouldn't I be worried that you're freaking out in here?”

“You already are, that's why you want to stay at home in the first place.” Sherlock stated. “Your fears are unjustified, by the way. I'm fine. And I would also be fine alone.”

“That's what you say now.” John muttered and shook his head. “I can go back to work next week.” He decided and down in his armchair. “Maybe Greg will have another case this week.”

“I hope you told him only to come with something interesting.” Sherlock grimaced. “The case yesterday was a joke.”

John rolled his eyes. “Yes, I've told him to look for mysterious cases that look impossible to solve for you. I bet he'll find something.”

“Considering how many cases seem impossible to solve for them...” Sherlock muttered with a slight smile. “I still don't understand how they even solved a single one in the past two years.”

“They're not that bad.” John argued.

They kept discussing Greg and his team for some time. Sherlock told John stories about the time before they met and John kept making comments. It was quite nice and the time passed really fast. Before John could really process it, the day was nearly over.

“I'm going to make dinner.” He announced in the evening.

Sherlock followed him to the kitchen and sat down on a chair. After some time, his phone beeped. It was an incoming text.

“Oh no.” He muttered darkly.

“What is it?” John looked over his shoulder questioningly.

“Just look at it.” Sherlock sighed and showed him the screen.

**Coming over for tea tomorrow. -MH**

“Your brother wants to make sure that you're alright.” John noted and turned back to his cooking.

“He knows that. He just wants to spy on us.” Sherlock argued. “He can't even leave me alone for a few days.”

“He cares for you. It's only logical.” John threw in thoughtfully. However, we wasn't completely sure. He still had problems at understanding Mycroft Holmes.

“No, he doesn't.” Sherlock shook his head. “Sentiment is a weakness for him.”

“You also used to say this...” John muttered quietly and hoped that Sherlock wouldn't hear him. He remembered it very well. _Sentiment is a chemical defect_.

“Things change.” Sherlock's soft voice ripped John out of his thoughts and when he looked up again, Sherlock was standing right in front of him. John held his breath. They were so close now, their faces only inches apart.

“Don't tell me Sherlock Holmes just admitted that he's been wrong about something.” John whispered.

“Seems so.” Sherlock replied. “ _You_ proved me wrong, John.” There was so much trust and confidence in Sherlock's eyes that it made John's heart beat faster. Could it really be true that John wasn't the only one who wanted to be more than friends? Ever since his return a few days ago, there had been moments like this. Moments in which it would have been so easy just to close the distance between them and kiss Sherlock.

However, John still wasn't entirely sure about Sherlock's feelings. Maybe he was just glad to have his best friend back? The fear of rejection was so strong that John didn't dare to make a move. Even if Sherlock was looking at him with so much intensity in his eyes, his lips slightly parted... Without even realizing it at first, John leaned in -

And the sound of his phone ruined the moment. They both flinched back and for a few moments, John thought that he saw regret on Sherlock's face, but it vanished as fast as it had appeared. “You should answer that.”

He swallowed. “Yes, I should.” He muttered. “Can you set the table?”

Sherlock grimaced, but nodded. John grabbed his phone from the table and answered the call. “Hello?”

“ _Hey John, it's Mary!_ ” She sounded breathless and he frowned.

“Mary, what's going on? Where are you?”

“ _I'm still abroad, work's going crazy at the moment._ ” She tried to sound lightly, but it didn't work. John noticed her distress.

“You said you wanted to be back last week.” John noted. “Greg has already been worried.”

She laughed breathlessly. “ _You know that you don't have to worry about me, John. What have you been doing those past days? I saw lots of missed calls from Greg, but you didn't try to call me a single time._ ”

“You're not the only one who's busy.” He muttered, trying to avoid telling her what happened over the phone.

“ _You're lying._ ” She stated simply. “ _Something happened. At work, you're never that busy. Actually, I've been wondering why you don't look for a better job._ ”

“I'm happy where I am.” He stated. “So when will you be back?”

“ _That's why I called. I'm not sure. Maybe a few more weeks._ ” Suddenly, he could hear noises through the phone, but he couldn't tell what it was. “ _I've got to go, John. Bye!_ ”

“Mary?” He asked, but she'd already ended the call.

John stared at the phone in his hand and tried to process what just happened.

“You're confused.” Sherlock's voice interrupted his thoughts.

“That was strange.” In short words, he told Sherlock about the phone call. He also tried to describe the strange noises he'd heart. At this, Sherlock's eyes narrowed, but he didn't comment it.

“Honestly, I doubt that she's a normal nurse.” Sherlock said in the end. “I mean, they're not trained abroad. And I doubt that they're this stressed.”

John shrugged. “We always thought that her story was crazy, but she refused to tell us more. And to be honest, I didn't care. She's nice and helped me through a very hard time. That's all that counts.”

“I really have to meet her.” Sherlock muttered.

“You will once she gets back.” John said. However, he wasn't so sure when that would be.

They didn't talk about Mary anymore on that evening, as well as the days that followed. John was glad about it. That night, he had nightmares again. He didn't saw Sherlock jump or Moriarty kill him. This time, it was Mary who shot Sherlock.

When John woke up with a cry, Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and told him to go back to sleep. At the contact, John could relax again and soon, he fell asleep. This time, he dreamt of Sherlock again, but it wasn't a bad dream at all.

* * *

“It's good to see you again, brother.” Mycroft said with a smile. “And you too, Dr. Watson.” He bowed his head in John's direction.

“Don't try to be polite, Mycroft.” Sherlock muttered, looking slightly annoyed. “Just tell us what you want.”

Mycroft looked offended. “Do you need a reason to visit my brother who's just returned from the dead?”

“You never come here without a reason.” Sherlock stated.

“He's kind of right about that.” John added with a slight smile. He could see that Sherlock's lips twitched at his statement.

Mycroft looked at them through narrowed eyes for a few seconds before he sighed. “Alright, let me just come to the point. I wanted to inform you about a few events that took place during your absence.”

“I had a look at the news and John told me about many things I've missed.” Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “What else do you have to say?”

Mycroft chuckled. “I doubt that the news and Dr. Watson know about everything that's going on.” The mocking tone of his voice seemed to annoy Sherlock because his expression darkened.

“Get to the point, Mycroft.” He urged him.

“You already know that you've successfully destroyed Moriarty's network.” Mycroft began. “However, this isn't the only thing you achieved in the past two years. Other criminals noted what happened to Moriarty's accomplices and are far more careful now. That doesn't apply to all of them, though. Some people are getting nervous and are making mistakes. Due to them, my people were able to find some of them. Like a well-known terrorist who'd separated himself from Moriarty years ago.”

Sherlock frowned. “Why should that interest us?” John noticed that Sherlock said _us_ and not _me_. He smiled at that.

“No one knows who's responsible for the decrease of criminal activity in the past two years. Some of them assume that it's been the doing of the British government. We are doing everything to confirm those presumptions.” Mycroft explained.

“You're trying to prevent that anyone gets to know about Sherlock's role in all this.” John said in surprise. He'd always known that Mycroft would do very much for his brother, but this surprised him either way.

“Don't sound so surprised, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft smiled. “I protect those close to me.”

“You mean me. There's no one else close to you.” Sherlock said dryly. John wondered why he seemed to be so angry at his brother right now.

“That's true.” Mycroft confirmed. “Opening up to others is a weakness. You should know that very well, dear brother.” It was obvious that he was talking about the day Sherlock faked his death because of Moriarty's doings. Because Moriarty had used Sherlock's feelings towards others.

“It's not a weakness.” Sherlock argued sternly and his eyes wandered to John. “Being alone makes you weak.”

Mycroft chuckled. “Think whatever you want.”

Sherlock used this opportunity to change the subject. “You helped John to restore my reputation.”

“I didn't do anything. Just organized a meeting with the press and made sure that they didn't change anything.” Mycroft said simply.

“And you made sure that I wasn't bothered by reporters anymore.” John added with a frown. “That was your doing, wasn't it?”

The uncomfortable look on Mycroft's face answered John's question well enough.

Sherlock sighed. “I never thought that I would have to thank you someday, Mycroft.”

“You don't have to thank me.” Mycroft threw in. “I did what I had to do.”

“Thank you.” Sherlock said, ignoring Mycroft's protest. “For helping John. And me while I was gone.”

“Don't get sentimental, brother.” Mycroft muttered.

“Is there another reason why you're here?” Sherlock asked impatiently. “I bet you didn't just come to tell me something I already knew.”

Mycroft glanced at John and suddenly, Sherlock shook his head. “No, you won't do that!”

“Sherlock...” Mycroft sighed.

“What do you even want from him?” Sherlock demanded to know and stared at his brother angrily.

John looked at the two brothers in confusion. “What's going on?”

“I just want to talk to Dr. Watson in private.” Mycroft explained as if John wasn't there at all. “It's nothing bad.”

“Whatever you want to say, you can also do that in front of me. We don't have any secrets.” Sherlock said sternly.

“He's right.” John said slowly, still not knowing what was going on. His mind was racing. Why would Mycroft want to talk to him? He couldn't find a reason. Or did he know about John's feelings for his brother?

“Then Dr. Watson can tell you about it afterwards if he wants to.” Mycroft sighed and turned to John. “Would you mind talking to me in private for a few minutes?”

John glanced at Sherlock and saw the unhappy look on his face. He turned to Mycroft again. “Whatever you have to say -”

His words were interrupted by a knock on the door. Mrs. Hudson walked into the flat. “Sherlock, DI Lestrade is downstairs, he wants to talk to you. I didn't invite him upstairs since I knew that you've got a visitor. He says that he's got a few files about cold cases you could have a look at.”

Sherlock looked from her to John and back.

“It's fine.” John knew that Sherlock wanted to look at those files very badly. “Just go. It won't take long.”

Sherlock stood up slowly and John noted the satisfied look on Mycroft's face. Did he sent Greg? But he would never let Mycroft Holmes use him like that, would he?

“I'll be back in two minutes.” Sherlock looked at Mycroft warningly before he followed Mrs. Hudson.

John raised his eyebrows at Mycroft. “You knew that Greg would come here today.” It wasn't a question. “And you used this moment because you knew that Sherlock would never let us talk in private.”

“You're far more observant than I thought, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft said with a frown on his face. “Yes, I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“You could have just talked to me when I was alone. Why sending Sherlock away and talking to me here?” John asked.

“I doubt that my brother will let you out of sight any time soon.” Mycroft said simply.

John frowned. “Why do you think so?”

Mycroft leaned forward and looked at John seriously. “Let me come to the point. Sherlock will be here again soon. I know about your feelings concerning my brother, John.” At any other moment, John would have commented that Mycroft used his first name, but he barely noticed it. _I know about your feelings concerning my brother_. Was he that easy to read? He froze and stared at Mycroft wide-eyed, not sure how to react.

Mycroft chuckled. “I've known it for years. You're not good at hiding your feelings.”

“Why does it matter to you?” John tried to sound calm and was surprised when it worked.

“The well-being of my brother is very important to me. I don't want Sherlock to get hurt.”

“I could never hurt him.” He said immediately.

“Not intentionally.” Mycroft stated. “He likes you, Dr. Watson. More than he wants to admit.” He cleared his throat. “If you ever do something to hurt my brother, intentionally or unintentionally, you'll die a slow, painful death. Do we understand each other?”

John swallowed at this threat. He knew that Mycroft would make it come true, that was out of question. He breathed in deeply and nodded. “I understand. Believe me, I will do anything to make sure that he's happy.”

Mycroft looked at him silently for a few moments and then he nodded. “I see that you mean it.” He paused. “Though I still don't understand why Sherlock finds you so appealing. From the first day he met you, he wouldn't stop talking about you.”

“So that's why you talked to me in that warehouse.” John muttered. He remembered that day very well.

“I will do everything to make sure that Sherlock is safe.” Mycroft's expression darkened. “I should have never let him go near Moriarty. I miscalculated the situation.”

“We all did.” John sighed. “But it is what it is. All that counts is that Sherlock is back now.”

Mycroft nodded thoughtfully. “I will make sure that something like that won't happen again. And I assume that you will be taking care of my brother?”

“Of course.” John answered without hesitation.

Mycroft smiled. “Sherlock will come through that door in about thirty seconds. So let me tell you one last thing, Dr. Watson.” He leaned in. “The feeling is mutual. You are not the only one with feelings that go further than friendship. Though I doubt that my brother will find the courage to act on it.”

John stared at Mycroft again. If his words had shocked him before, it was nothing compared to now. He didn't know what to say and luckily, he didn't have to. In this moment, the door of the flat flew open and Sherlock walked in, carrying a box with files. He was smiling, but once he saw John and Mycroft, he froze.

“What did you do?” He demanded to know and the box fell to the ground. “John, are you alright? What did he say to you?”

John shook his head slowly. “It's nothing.” He muttered, still trying to process Mycroft's words. The feeling was mutual? Sherlock had feelings for him?

Honestly, that would explain a lot. For example why he'd acted to strange around Greg. Or why he'd been so interested in Ben, even if he was just mentioned briefly. And of course why Sherlock was always sleeping in John's bed now without complaining...

John barely noticed that Sherlock grabbed Mycroft's arm and pulled his brother to the kitchen. “Tell me what you said to him!” He tried to talk quietly, but it didn't work in his anger. John heard his voice anyway.

“We just had a nice conversation.” Mycroft said simply. “Nothing that should concern you.”

“He looks like he's seen a ghost!” Sherlock snapped. “So what did you do?”

“Why don't you ask John himself?”

“I will do that once you're gone. And you can bet that I'll never leave you alone with him again.” Sherlock sounded furious.

Mycroft chuckled. “One day, you'll be grateful that I've talked to him alone. Remember my words, Sherlock.”

“I should be grateful that you scared John?” Sherlock asked incredulously. “You're crazy.”

“I should leave now.” Mycroft announced. “I've got this important appointment later.”

By now, John had gained enough control over himself again that he also stood up when Mycroft walked towards the door, followed by a furious looking Sherlock. “Goodbye, Sherlock. Dr. Watson.” Mycroft smiled politely and left the flat.

John's and Sherlock's eyes met. “What did he want?” Suddenly, Sherlock's anger was gone.

“It's nothing.” John muttered.

“He threatened you.” Sherlock deduced. “And he said something else, but I'm not sure...” Suddenly, he stopped and his eyes widened. “He didn't...” Sherlock paled and stared at John.

In this moment, John was sure that Sherlock knew what Mycroft had told him. And from the looks of it, he wasn't pleased at all. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out.

“Sherlock...” John started and took a step towards him, but his friend just shook his head.

“I've got to look at those files.” He muttered and before John could react, he grabbed the box and ran to his room. John followed him, calling Sherlock's name, but it was too late. The door slammed shut right in front of his face and he could hear the key being turned.

“Sherlock!” John said loudly. “Come out! Let's talk about it!”

When he heard the sound of a violin, John knew that Sherlock wouldn't come out any time soon.

In this moment, he felt so stupid for even listening to Mycroft. And for not being able to control his emotions better. If he wouldn't have been so surprised, Sherlock might have not noticed what was going on.

With a sigh, John sank down onto the floor in front of the door. He had to talk to Sherlock. It was obvious why he'd run away. He was afraid that John might not return his feelings and would reject him. He had to make him understand that he was wrong.

So he waited.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter 8! From now on, I can't give you a new chapter every day since this is the last one I've written. The next one will be up this weekend, I think. Please be patient. 
> 
> I don't own the characters or places!

Hours later, John was still sitting on the floor right in front of Sherlock's door. He was still playing the violin and it didn't seem like he would stop any time soon.

John's back was hurting and he began to feel tired, but forced himself to keep his eyes open. However, as time went by, it became more and more difficult. He was also hungry since he didn't eat anything since lunch, but ignored that feeling. Most probably, Sherlock was also starving by now. He was still taking painkillers, which would make everything even worse...

When the music finally stopped, it was nearly eleven pm. John groaned and got to his feet, but he had to get hold of the doorframe. Otherwise, he would have stumbled. “Sherlock?” He called loudly, but as expected, there was no answer.

“Sherlock, can we talk?” He waited for a few moments, but again nothing.

John sighed loudly. “We really have to talk, Sherlock. I'm not saying this to you through the door. We can also do it tomorrow, if you want. I'm going to bed now.” He wanted to walk towards his room and hesitated. “Make sure you eat something, with all those painkillers it isn't good for your stomach. And get some sleep.”

Later, John was lying in bed and stared at the ceiling. Even if he'd kept repeating Mycroft's words in his head for hours now, he still couldn't believe it. Sherlock Holmes had feelings for him. Maybe John wouldn't have believed Mycroft if he didn't see Sherlock's reaction. However, the way Sherlock had acted, with that shocked and concerned look on his face, made everything perfectly clear. He was feeling something for John. And it scared him.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have run away, John was sure of that. But this was about feelings and when there was something Sherlock was completely horrible with, it were those. Dealing with others had never been easy for him and now this...

John cursed inwardly. The next time he saw Mycroft Holmes, he would have a word with him and it wouldn't be nice. Maybe he should make sure that Mycroft didn't have that umbrella close by then... And Anthea, of course. She always protected him.

He didn't want it to be like this. John had planned to tell Sherlock about his feelings one day, now that he got him back. However, not in this way. Also not so soon. He wanted to take his time, be sure of Sherlock's feelings first. It wouldn't have been easy, but John would have solved that riddle, he was sure of that.

Now Mycroft had destroyed all his plans. John feared that Sherlock was going to avoid him from now on, too afraid of his reaction to that knowledge. He still felt guilty for reacting that way, he gave Sherlock the wrong impression... What must he think of John now? That he was disgusted by this? Most probably not, John had already told him that he was gay. But maybe that he didn't return his feelings? Yeah, that could be possible. Maybe also that John would leave him now?

He sighed loudly, knowing that it wouldn't be of any use to keep thinking of this. He could do this all night and still not know what he was going to say to Sherlock once the other man stopped avoiding him.

John knew that he needed sleep. He was already incredibly tired, but something felt just wrong. When he realized what it was, he laughed dryly. The other half of his bed was empty. How did he get used to Sherlock's presence after a few nights?

It took him more hours to fall asleep and when he did, nightmares were haunting him.

* * *

_First, John saw the same scene as every night. Sherlock on that rooftop, ready to say goodbye. He knew that conversation by heart and even if he also knew what was going to come after that, it still shocked him. Like every night._

_He held Sherlock in his arms and pleaded for him not to be dead, but then the scene shifted. However, this time John didn't see Moriarty again. Instead, he was in an unknown room, or at least he believed so at first._

_Soon, he realized that it was the room he'd first met Sherlock in. And there he was, looking through a microscope thoughtfully and unaware of John's presence. He was a few years younger than now and there were less worry lines on his face, but otherwise, he was exactly the same. Suddenly, someone else began to talk and John was shocked to realize that this was the first time he'd met Sherlock. Why was he seeing this again?_

_Sherlock grinned at him. “The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street.” He said before he rushed out of the room and John couldn't do anything else than to stare after him._

_Again, he saw another scene. However, this seemed to be far more real. Like John could finally move and do something. He was in his flat and Sherlock was sitting in his armchair. “I thought you would never wake up, John.” He said and rolled his eyes. “Don't you know how late it is?”_

_John sighed. “We need to talk, Sherlock.” He muttered, knowing that there were far too many unspoken things between them._

“ _Talk.” Sherlock repeated his last word, sounding annoyed. “What should we talk about?”_

“ _You know exactly what I'm talking about.” John stated and crossed his arms. “After all, you ran away from me.”_

“ _There's nothing to say.” Sherlock laughed dryly. “Or do you really think that I could like_ you _, John? Sentiment is a chemical defect, nothing else. It surprises me that you believed a single word my brother said. Most probably, he just wants to make sure that you keep taking care of me.” Slowly, Sherlock stood up. “But let me tell you one thing, John.” The way he said his name made John shiver. Sherlock had never said it this coldly before. “I don't need anyone. Especially not someone like you. You're not even smart. All the cases you couldn't solve while I was gone are prove enough.”_

“ _Sherlock -” John started, but he was interrupted immediately._

“ _No, you'll listen to me now, Dr. Watson! I don't need you. I never have and never will. Why can't you get that into your head? And even if I would ever feel something for someone, it wouldn't be you!” He looked at John with so much disgust on his face that it made him feel sick._

“ _You can't mean this...” John muttered and shook his head. Everything around him started to spin and he closed his eyes. “Sherlock...”_

“ _Don't say my name! You don't belong here, John. You should just leave.”_

_When he could finally open his eyes again, Sherlock was already opening the door for him. “Don't think about coming back. My new flatmate will come soon.” Suddenly, there were footsteps on the stairs. “Ah, I think he's already there.” Sherlock said with a wide grin. The look on his face made John want to throw up._

_He walked to the door slowly, but his legs felt numb. Then the other person came into view and John froze. “Did you miss me?” Jim Moriarty asked with a wide smile. “It's so good to see you again, Johnny!” He wrapped an arm around John's shoulder as if they were good friends. “Sherlock and I will have so much fun! It will be incredible, the next big game!”_

_He let go of his shoulders again and walked to Sherlock. To John's horror, they hugged each other. “It's so good to see you.” Sherlock grinned at him. “I impatiently waited for your arrival.” Suddenly, he seemed to remember that John was still there, watching them silently. “Why are you still here?” Sherlock frowned._

“ _Yes, shouldn't you be gone by now?” Moriarty added. “No one wants you, Dr. Watson. You're just a waste of space.”_

“ _But Sherlock, Moriarty -” John started weakly, but as expected, they interrupted him again._

“ _Just go now!” Sherlock yelled. “And never come back!”_

_The last thing John heard when he stumbled down the stairs was their laughter._

* * *

When John woke up with a scream, he was alone. He already expected the door to fly open, but everything around him was silent. His heart was beating heavily in his chest and he was shivering. “It was just a dream. Nothing else. Just a dream.” He whispered to himself and tried to regulate his breathing, but it wouldn't work.

John wasn't able to calm down. He kept seeing the images from his dream every time he closed his eyes. The disgust on Sherlock's face when he looked at John. _I don't need you. I never have and never will._ The way he'd hugged Moriarty and how they laughed together. Even if it had just been a dream, John knew that he wouldn't forget that any time soon.

What would Sherlock do when they saw each other again? Look at him with the same disgust on his face he did in his dream? Tell him that Mycroft was wrong and that he didn't have feelings for John? Because that's what it all was about, wasn't it? If he would feel the same, he wouldn't have run away. Sherlock had always been able to read John like an open book, there was no way he could have missed this.

He sank back down onto the mattress when the realization hit him. Sherlock didn't want him. He never did. That's also why he'd refused to leave his room earlier.

John hadn't realized that he'd been crying until the first sob escaped his lips. More followed and soon, he buried his face in his pillow and cried, not caring if anyone heard him. The only person that mattered wouldn't come anyway.

* * *

He didn't know how long he'd been crying when someone entered his room. Most probably, it was just Sherlock to tell him to shut up already, so John didn't bother looking up. Suddenly, the weight on the mattress shifted and someone wrapped his arms around John's waist from behind. He tensed, but then a familiar scent hit him.

“It's alright, John.” Sherlock whispered quietly. “I'm here. You don't have to cry.”

John was still shivering, but he breathed in deeply to stop sobbing. Luckily, it worked. “What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice sounding hoarse.

“I heard you scream and cry. I couldn't stand it any longer.” So Sherlock just came to his room because he was annoyed by the noises? “I don't like hearing you crying. You shouldn't be sad, John.” Or was he wrong about this and Sherlock really cared about him? The way Sherlock said his name now was so different from his dream. Sherlock's voice was so soft, it sounded like John was someone important to him.

“It was just a dream.” He whispered weakly, mostly to convince himself of this.

“Did you see me again?” Sherlock asked softly.

“Yes.” However, John had no intention to tell Sherlock of that dream. Most probably, he would never do that.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

John shook his head. “I can't.” To his surprise, Sherlock moved even closer to him.

“I'll never leave you, you know that? I'm not strong enough. I have never been. In those past two years, I had only one goal. Returning to you.” Sherlock paused. “It's what kept me going. The thought that you'd still be here when I came back to you. I just didn't expect you to be so sad.”

“You didn't know. We've talked about this, Sherlock. It's fine.” John would have loved to see his face, but he didn't move in Sherlock's arms.

“I asked Mycroft to take care of you while I was gone.” Suddenly, Sherlock sounded unhappy and there was a hard edge in his voice. “He didn't do it.” So that's why he'd been so angry at his brother earlier.

“I don't think that he could have cheered me up.” John said soothingly. “We don't get along well and you know that.”

“I couldn't stand the fact that you might be alone all this time.” Sherlock explained. “There was this uneasy feeling all the time, I knew that something was wrong. Even if I hoped that you'd get over it soon.” He sighed deeply. “I miscalculated the situation. I should have known it the moment I saw you on the graveyard.”

“It's not your fault. You couldn't have known how much your death would affect me.”

“I could, I just didn't want to see it.” Sherlock muttered. “I'm sorry, John.”

“You already apologized, Sherlock.” John threw in.

“I wanted to do it again. I still feel bad for everything I've done.”

“You shouldn't. It is what it is. Let the past be, it's the future we should think about.” John said softly and when Sherlock began to draw random patterns on his arm, he couldn't suppress a yawn anymore.

Sherlock chuckled. “Maybe you should sleep now, John.”

“We both should. I bet you've been up all night.”

“I didn't know if you'd still want me here.” Sherlock whispered.

“I always do.” John muttered before he fell asleep.

* * *

When John woke up, the sun was already shining into his room. He knew that it was most probably late, but he didn't care. After all, this was his free week. The events of the previous day and night were still on his mind, so he wasn't surprised to see Sherlock lying next to him when he turned around carefully.

Sherlock was already awake and watched him with a smile. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

John smiled back at him. “Why don't you tell me if I did. I bet you already know the answer to your question.”

Sherlock chuckled and the sound of his voice made John shiver. “We both slept well, I guess.”

John looked at Sherlock more closely. He still looked tired, most probably because he'd been awake most of the night. His curly hair was a mess and his eyes were shining when he looked at John. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt together with sweatpants. His injuries were healing slowly, which was why Sherlock didn't move that stiffly anymore. However, it would still take some time until he was completely healed again.

“What are you thinking?” Sherlock's voice ripped him out of his thoughts.

“That it will take more time until you're fine again.” John said simply.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I feel much better already.”

“Better isn't fine.” John argued.

“We could go on cases again.”

“You promised me to stay home until you're fully healed, Sherlock.” His voice left no room to argue.

He sighed. “I know. Then the cold cases from Lestrade will have to do for now.”

“Did you already look at them?” John asked curiously.

“Not yet.” Sherlock hesitated. “I had other things on my mind.”

And just like that, the relaxed atmosphere in the room was gone and replaced by tension. “Sherlock...” John started, but he shook his head.

“Let's not talk about this now.” He said and avoided to look into his eyes. “Maybe we should have breakfast first. Your stomach is growling, John.”

Now that he said it, John realized how hungry he was. After all, they skipped dinner. “I bet you're hungry as well.” He muttered when he stood up and moved his stiff shoulders. Sitting on the ground for hours hadn't been his best idea. When he glanced at Sherlock, he noticed that the other man was staring at him. “Sherlock?”

This seemed to rip him out of his stare and he cleared his throat. “Breakfast sounds good.” Sherlock muttered and stood up as well.

An hour later, they were both sitting on the couch. They didn't talk very much during breakfast and somehow, the silence had felt awkward. Not like the comfortable one that used to spread between them otherwise.

“You didn't want me to be alone with Mycroft.” John began hesitantly.

“Of course not.” Sherlock frowned at him as if he'd just said something very stupid. “My brother is never up to something good, especially when he wants to talk to people.” When he said it like this, it sounded like talking would be the worst thing in the world.

“He planned it, you know?” John smiled slightly. “He knew that Greg would come over with cold cases and he used that moment to get you out of the way.”

“He told you that?” Sherlock asked in surprise.

“I _deduced_ that.” John corrected him and slowly, Sherlock's lips turned into a wide smile.

“Was he surprised that you looked right through him?” He wanted to know.

John nodded. “He was. However, he changed the subject then...” Now the moment was there. The conversation John feared so much ever since Sherlock ran away the previous day.

“So he told you...” Sherlock began, but then he hesitated. There was a mixture of emotions on his face. Mostly, it was nervousness. “John, I'm sorry. If I'd known what Mycroft wanted to say to you, I would have never left you alone with him.”

“Why didn't _you_ tell me?” John wanted to know. Mycroft had already told him that Sherlock would never act on his feelings, but he asked the question anyway.

“I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. I didn't want things to change.” Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. “Don't you see how awkward this is? I never wanted it!” He looked angry now, but John couldn't tell if the feeling was directed at Mycroft or Sherlock himself. “We were always such a good team. I wanted it to stay this way. Telling you could destroy everything we have and look what it did!”

John raised his eyebrows. “So you would rather keep quiet and not tell me anything instead of risking that it would change?”

“You always told me that you're not gay! How was I supposed to say something then? It would have destroyed everything!” Sherlock sighed again.

“So you already felt something for me before... Moriarty?” He asked hesitantly.

Sherlock laughed dryly. “I felt something for you since the first time we met, John. I just didn't know what it was back then and I tried to push those feelings away.”

“Because you thought that sentiment is a chemical defect.” John stated.

“I only realized later that friends didn't make you weak, but stronger.” Sherlock nodded thoughtfully. “ _You_ taught me that.” His lips twitched. However, he turned serious again very fast. “I know that you don't feel the same, John.” He muttered and now he avoided to look at him. “Can't we just... forget everything that happened yesterday? I would also understand if you want to leave now, but -”

“What?” John interrupted him and now Sherlock looked up again with wide eyes. “Why should I want to leave, Sherlock?” He demanded to know. “And I don't think that I can forget what happened yesterday.”

John hated the unhappy look on his face. “I'm sorry, John...” By now, he had already realized that Sherlock didn't know about his feelings for him. He got everything completely wrong. Which wasn't a big surprise, because he was talking to Sherlock Holmes about _feelings._ But honestly, how could he have missed this?

“Sherlock.” He interrupted him firmly. “Stop apologizing. I won't leave, I promise. I could never do that. I can't stay away from you for too long.” He breathed in deeply. “But I also can't forget what happened yesterday. For a genius, you can be so blind sometimes.”

Sherlock frowned at him, confusion obvious on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“You never noticed, didn't you?” John asked softly and smiled. “First, you were just my best friend, that's true. I've always been so sure of myself, I never doubted my sexuality once. Until you came into my life. I didn't notice that things changed until, one day, everything became perfectly clear. From that moment on, I was lost. And I didn't see anyone except for you.” He hesitated, but then he found the courage to take Sherlock's hand. “You really never noticed?”

“I'm not... good with feelings.” Sherlock muttered. “When did it change?”

John smiled. “Always so curious.” He said teasingly, but when he saw the impatient look on Sherlock's face, he continued. “You might remember the day Moriarty kidnapped me and nearly killed us in that pool?”

Even after all this time, Sherlock paled when he nodded. “I've never been so scared before.”

“I know.” John replied softly. “It was the first time I realized that you really cared about me.”

“John...” Sherlock began slowly. “What are you saying?” He still looked a little confused and John knew that his mind was racing.

“What did you hear that day on the graveyard? After the funeral.” He asked back instead of answering the question.

“You asked me not to be dead. And I heard you.” He said immediately.

“Anything else?” John wanted to know.

“You were whispering.” Sherlock stated. “And crying. It was hard to stay hidden behind that tree, but I didn't have a choice.”

John cleared his throat. “I said that I didn't know how to go on without you.” He tried to sound calm, but his heart was racing in his chest. He already knew about Sherlock's feelings for him, so this shouldn't be that difficult, but it was anyway. “And that I love you.”

When Sherlock had looked shocked before, it was nothing compared to now. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth several times to say something, but no words would come out. “You... _love_ me?” He asked incredulously. “You love _me_?” He repeated and shook his head in disbelief.

“Always have, always will.” John said with a smile. “I just never found the courage to tell you, considering that you thought of yourself as married to your work.”

Sherlock chuckled breathlessly. “That was then. For me, things also changed when I met you.”

“When did you realize it?” John asked curiously. “I mean, before of after I did?”

“In exactly the same moment.” Sherlock whispered. “It scared me to death, seeing you there with Moriarty. And then the bomb...” He shook his head and grimaced. “One of the worst days of my life. Next to the one Moriarty threatened to kill you again.”

“But he didn't.” John threw in when a sad look appeared on Sherlock's face. “You were smarter than him. You won the game, Sherlock.”

“At what cost?” He smiled sadly. “I nearly destroyed you in the process. My absence -”

“Is nothing we'll talk about right now.” John interrupted him firmly. He smiled. “So you were in love with me all this time?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “That's what I said, yes. No need to repeat it.” He chuckled. “I can't believe that you love me. I mean, look at me. I'm a disaster when it comes to people.”

He laughed. “You are.” John agreed. “But I don't mind. You're perfect.”

That's when he couldn't hold himself back any longer. He grabbed Sherlock's shirt and pulled him closer. And then their lips met and they kissed. Hesitant at first, but soon, Sherlock seemed to find the courage to kiss John back more passionately.

When they parted, they were both breathing heavily.

“I love you too, John.” Sherlock whispered and smiled.

John grinned back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? I can't wait to hear your thoughts so far!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is here! It's very long, I didn't plan that. I just couldn't stop writing! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think, that would be awesome! I hope I can write the next chapter sometime next week.
> 
> I don't own the characters or places!

“Oh god, I can't believe that Lestrade thinks those cases are difficult to solve!” Sherlock shook his head angrily. “Even a child could find the murderer here.” He threw a file onto the ground. “Or this, it's so obvious that it wasn't a bank robbery! One of the employees faked it to get more money.” The papers also fell to the floor. “And what's this?” Sherlock frowned. “The Borgia Pearl.” He snorted. “It's not even in Europe anymore. And besides, it's boring!” Slowly, the pile of paper on the floor was getting bigger.

John raised his eyebrows sceptically. “You want to tell me that there's not a single interesting case among those?”

“If I would have been here those past two years, all those cases wouldn't even be in that box now. Well, except for the pearl, maybe. That's just stupid and I won't waste time thinking about it.” Sherlock stared at the files in disgust. “Why couldn't Lestrade bring something useful?”

“Maybe because there aren't more cases at the moment?” John offered.

“There are, you just won't let me go outside and solve them.” Sherlock stated.

“We've talked about this, Sherlock.” John warned him. “You have to heal first, I know you're still in pain.”

“I've had worse.”

“We won't discuss this again!” John exclaimed.

“Then it's good that I didn't even want to argue.” Sherlock smiled slightly. “Why should I want to leave this flat while you're in here, John?”

John raised his eyebrows slowly. “What does that mean?” He asked.

Sherlock's smile turned into a wide grin. “Well, why should we go out there when we can also stay here and, I don't know, maybe kiss again?”

This was indeed a surprise. Because after kissing for some time, Sherlock had just let John go and grabbed the box with cold cases from Greg. John had assumed that it was enough contact for now, but Sherlock really wanted to do it again? Well, he wasn't going to complain.

He smiled. “What about the last cases in that box?” He asked sheepishly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “They're not even worth looking at.” He stood up from his armchair and moved towards John slowly.

“Do you see that just by looking at the files?”

“Of course.” Was the simple answer. “I'll explain it later, if you like.”

Now he was standing directly in front of John's armchair and he stood up as well. Normally, John hated being smaller than his partner. With Sherlock, however, it was a huge turn-on. It excited him.

Their faces were just inches apart when John smiled at Sherlock. “Would be good, I think. After all, there's so much you still have to teach me about deductions, considering how useless I am.”

Sherlock frowned. “I never said you're useless.”

John chuckled. “You spent the last hour insulting all those idiots who couldn't solve the cases in that box. I might have helped Greg with some of them.”

“I bet my absence just distracted you. Otherwise, you would have solved those cases.” Sherlock declared after a few moments. John already opened his mouth to protest, but Sherlock silenced him with a kiss.

* * *

In the evening, John was just cooking dinner and Sherlock was playing on the violin when the door to their flat opened. It was Mrs. Hudson and she looked troubled. “John, someone sent you a letter.” She exclaimed loudly. “I don't know who it was, though.”

John turned to her and frowned. “A letter for me?” He asked and washed his hands before he went to Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock also stopped playing the violin and joined them curiously.

It was a simple white envelope. _John Watson._ Nothing else, not even the address.

“It didn't come with the post.” John concluded and opened it carefully.

“You didn't expect a letter.” Sherlock noted.

John nodded. “And I have no clue who might have dropped it here.” In the envelope was a single piece of paper. It was empty except for one line.

_I'll visit you tomorrow afternoon, please be home. I need your help. -M_

“M?” Sherlock asked in confusion.

“No idea.” John shrugged.

“Maybe Mary?” Mrs. Hudson suggested. “It looks like the handwriting of a woman.” She looked concerned. “That sounds serious. Will you be home tomorrow, John?”

“I planned that, yes.” He exchanged a look with Sherlock, who took the letter from John and looked at it more closely. If something else was there, Sherlock would find it. John was sure of that. “But Mary would have sent a text.” He said to Mrs. Hudson. “Or even called. She always did that. I even talked to her recently. She said she wouldn't be back until in a few weeks.”

“You mean that strange phone call. What did she say where she was now? Egypt?” Sherlock threw in. “Didn't you say that she sounded breathless, like she was in a hurry?”

John nodded. “Now that you mention it, yes, she did.” Honestly, he'd completely forgotten about that conversation because so many other things happened. “Do you think something happened?”

“Normally, I would say that a nurse has a quite boring life, but your friend seems to be different.” Sherlock said slowly. “We should wait and see who shows up here tomorrow afternoon.” He threw the paper onto the table. “Nothing to deduce. Whoever wrote that is good.”

John frowned. Something about this letter felt strange to him, but he couldn't quite grasp it. It was the feeling that something was going to happen.

“Forget about it for now.” Sherlock whispered and touched John's arm carefully. “That's a problem for tomorrow.”

Mrs. Hudson chuckled and they both turned to her in surprise. “I never thought that I'd see the day when Sherlock says something can wait until tomorrow.” She laughed.

John grinned. “She's right.” He noted and winked at Sherlock.

“Well, there are far more enjoyable ways to spend the time.” Sherlock said simply and wrapped an arm around John's waist. They didn't talk about coming out now. To John's surprise, he didn't mind that others knew about their relationship. Which should have surprised him, actually. Because he'd never openly announced that he was gay. However, this was Sherlock. With him, it always seemed to be so easy.

Which reminded John of the fact that the world didn't even know Sherlock was alive yet. So there would be two surprises for the press at the same time.

Mrs. Hudson's happy cry took John back to reality. “I knew it!” She said loudly and clapped her hands. “I've always known that you would end up together!”

Then she wrapped her arms around both of them. John gasped in surprise while Sherlock just stood there stiffly and waited for her to let them go again. When she finally did, Mrs. Hudson grinned at them. “It was about time! After all, you're not getting any younger.” There was a self-satisfied look on her face. “I'm so happy for you!”

John smiled at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.”

“It won't be easy with him, John.” She ignored the suspicious look on Sherlock's face. “But if someone can tame him, it's you.”

“You know that I stand right next to you?” Sherlock asked. “It's impolite to talk about people as if they're not there.”

“You do that all the time, so stop complaining.” John threw in, amused.

“I don't!” Sherlock argued.

“You do.” Mrs. Hudson said loudly before she turned to John again. “You're good for each other. Did I ever tell you that he got much calmer ever since he met you?”

“You did. Several times.” John nodded.

“Alright, this conversation will end now.” Sherlock interrupted them. “It's late, you should go downstairs, Mrs. Hudson. Your series starts in ten minutes and you have to get the biscuits before it starts. And tea.” He placed a hand on her back and guided her to the door. “It was nice to have you here.”

“Thanks for bringing the letter!” John added, but then Sherlock had already shut the door behind her. He turned the key and sighed.

“That woman is a nuisance.” He muttered.

“You don't think that.” John grinned at him. “You just didn't like the fact that she talked about you.”

Sherlock looked at him silently for a few moments. Then he nodded. “Maybe you're right. Now what about dinner?” He walked towards the table and grabbed the mysterious letter to place it on the mantelpiece. On his way back to the kitchen, Sherlock kissed John's cheek. “She's right, though.”

John raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“We are good for each other.” Sherlock smiled and his eyes were shining.

* * *

“Whoever sent the letter should be here soon.” John noted with a look at the clock.

“Do you also think it's Mary?” Sherlock looked up from the book he was reading.

He shrugged. “I'm not sure. I don't know anyone else whose name starts with M. Only Mycroft, but he would never send a letter.”

“I asked him to leave you alone.” Sherlock muttered darkly. “He's done enough damage already.”

“Damage?” John repeated.

“You didn't see the look on your face after he talked to you.” Sherlock still sounded unhappy about that.

“If he wouldn't have talked to me, we wouldn't be together now.” He stated. “We would still be dancing around each other, too scared to say anything.”

Sherlock stared at him silently.

He raised his eyebrows. “Would you have said anything, Sherlock? Honestly?”

“I wasn't sure if you felt the same.” He admitted in the end.

John nodded. “I thought so. Just be happy that your brother forced us to do something.”

“It could also have ended badly.” Sherlock muttered.

“Nope. Not with me.” John grinned. “As I said, for a genius, you can be so blind when it comes to feelings.”

“Now I know it.” Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. “I don't understand how I could have missed it. All those times you looked at me with so much trust and love on your face. Or when you supported me, even if everyone else didn't. You even got yourself in danger for me.”

“As I said, blind.” John repeated.

“I also missed that you basically stared at me every time I wasn't looking.” Sherlock continued simply.

“Wait, how do you want to know that if you weren't looking?” John asked incredulously. Had he really been that bad at hiding his feelings for Sherlock? Well, he didn't notice it, so maybe not.

Sherlock grinned. “Your reaction just confirmed it.”

John shook his head. “You're impossible.”

“What I did notice is that you nearly undressed me with your eyes this morning when you tended my wounds.” Suddenly, the grin on Sherlock's face was replaced by a curious smile.

At this, John nearly choked on his tea. He'd expected anything from Sherlock, but not this. Because except for kissing, they didn't do anything yet, not even when they'd been sleeping in the same bed at night. No touching, nothing. Just kissing and a little cuddling.

“Tell me, John, do you want me?” Sherlock leaned forward and there was still this curious look on his face.

John's heart started to beat faster. “Why don't you tell me?” He asked, suddenly at a loss of words.

“I took your pulse this morning.” Sherlock explained. “And I looked at your other reactions closely. The answer is yes. You do.”

Slowly, John stood up and walked towards Sherlock's armchair. He leaned closer to him. “What about you, Sherlock?” He asked into his ear. “There must be a reason why you mentioned this just now. So tell me, do _you_ want _me_?”

John knew that the timing was most probably the worst ever since they were expecting a visitor soon, but he couldn't help it. Not when Sherlock started this conversation all by himself.

Sherlock breathed in deeply when John placed kisses on his jaw. “John...” He whispered, but didn't continue.

“What is it, Sherlock?” He asked innocently. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” He was still leaning down while Sherlock just sat there. John enjoyed the feeling of being the one in charge right now.

“Not at all.” Sherlock muttered. “It's just...”

“Do you want me?” He repeated the question. John didn't wait for an answer. “You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, did you know that?”

“Yes.” Sherlock sounded breathless now.

“You know that?” John already knew what was going to come next.

“I want you, John.”

John smiled widely. “I love you.” He just leaned down to kiss Sherlock when a knock on the door interrupted them.

“You chose a terrible moment for telling me all this!” John complained quietly and sat back down on his armchair with a curse.

Sherlock grinned. “We can still continue later.” He said mischievously.

John sighed. “Yeah, make me wait all day. Fine.” He turned to the door. “Come in!”

They both watched with anticipation when the door opened and the mysterious visitor entered the flat.

Just that it wasn't a stranger like John had thought. Mrs. Hudson had been right. It was indeed Mary!

She looked tired and even from the distance John noticed the dark rings under her eyes. Her hair wasn't tidy as usual and her blue eyes weren't shining like they always did. She was wearing black jeans and a dark pullover, which was quite unusual for her. She preferred elegant clothes. Despite all this, the smile on her lips seemed genuine.

“Hello John.” She greeted him.

“Mary, what are you doing here? And what about that letter?” John asked instead of greeting her as well.

She just opened her mouth to answer, but then she spotted Sherlock in his armchair and froze. “I... John, is that...?”

Sherlock smiled widely and stood up in one fluid motion. He walked towards Mary and held out his hand. “Sherlock Holmes, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mary...?”

“Morstan. Mary Morstan.” She replied, still taken aback by Sherlock's presence. They shook hands and John already knew what was coming now. He couldn't see Sherlock's face, but knew that he was just making deductions about Mary.

“John has told me many things about you.” Sherlock noted when he took a step back.

“He wouldn't stop talking about you.” Mary muttered and glanced at John. “How is it possible that you're still alive? From what I've heard, you jumped from a rooftop.”

“Cover and distraction.” Sherlock said simply. His eyes were slightly narrowed and he still watched Mary closely. “Something you're not unfamiliar with, I assume?”

She stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Why don't you sit down, Mary?” John threw in quickly. “I'll make you tea. You look stressed. Then you can tell us everything about your problem. After all, you need my help?”

She nodded gratefully and John handed her a chair. From the looks of it, Sherlock's sudden appearance had shocked her pretty much.

John went to the kitchen to get the tea and wasn't surprised when Sherlock followed him. “ _This_ is Mary?” He asked quietly, disbelief obvious in his voice.

“Yes, that's Mary.” John nodded. “Why are you so surprised?”

“Because she's everything, but not a nurse.” Sherlock stated and glanced at her. “She's got many secrets. Some of them even I can't decipher just now.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Cover and distraction.” He noted and the question in his voice couldn't be missed.

“She's some kind of secret agent. Or an assassin, I assume. I'm not sure yet.” Sherlock was talking fast now. “I can't believe that she's your friend! She was interested in you last year?”

John stared at him. “Secret agent? Assassin? Sherlock, what's gotten into you? This is Mary we're talking about! We've met her regularly for over a year now.”

“In which she disappeared unexpectedly for different amounts of time?” Sherlock guessed.

“Her advanced training -”

“Is just a cover.” Sherlock cut in. “A distraction. I saw it the first time I looked at her. The call you got from her also made me suspicious. And then the letter...” He frowned, a concentrated look on his face. “She has a problem, that wasn't a lie. I just don't know what it is...”

“Maybe we should just ask her?” John suggested. Honestly, he couldn't believe all the things Sherlock said. On the other hand, this was Sherlock and he was never wrong. John trusted him.

“My presence distracts her.” Sherlock whispered. “Maybe we can use that to get more information. She doesn't know that we know about her secret yet.”

“If you wouldn't be here now, I would have never known it. Unless she'd told me.” John muttered and sighed. He took the cup of tea and together, they walked back to the living room.

“Thank you.” Mary said gratefully when he handed it to her. “You still remember how I like my tea.” She sounded surprised.

John chuckled. “Of course I do.” He tried to sound relaxed, but it didn't work. “So why are you here?” He tried again. “What about the mysterious letter?”

Mary looked from him to Sherlock and back. “I don't know if that's important right now.” She said hesitantly. It was true, Sherlock was making her nervous. John couldn't blame her. After all, Sherlock was staring at her with a frown on his face.

“You wrote that you need my help. Now you can even get the help of both of us.” He gestured at Sherlock. “You know that he's good at helping people.”

Mary hesitated. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you alone, John.” Again, her eyes wandered to Sherlock. “I just didn't expect this.”

John chuckled. “I also couldn't believe it at first.” He told her. “And you should have seen Greg's face!”

To his surprise, she relaxed a little bit. “I think you'll see that reaction more often in the future.” Now she completely turned to Sherlock. “After all, it's very unusual that someone just returns from the dead after two years.”

“It is.” Sherlock nodded. “Just that I haven't been dead.” He said simply.

“Long story.” John threw in.

“But this is not about me.” Sherlock continued. “You're here because you've got a problem. Maybe because someone blew your cover?” He raised his eyebrows. “People are following you, aren't they?”

Mary paled and stared at him. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” John noticed that her voice was shaking slightly, but only because he knew her so well by now. “I've got problems at work and need a place to stay for a while. John is my best friend so I asked him.”

It was obvious that Sherlock didn't believe her. “Isn't John your only friend, next to Lestrade?” Sherlock asked. “You didn't even plan to befriend them, right? You just couldn't resist John. He has that effect on many people so it's no surprise. Once you talked to them, you kept coming back, even if it made things more difficult. Because you couldn't just run away anymore when something happened. Like now.”

“I still don't know what you mean.” Mary said flatly. The tension in her shoulders had returned.

“You were an assassin once. It worked for some time, until something went wrong. You had to build a new identity, called Mary Morstan. A simple nurse. Someone inconspicuous. Someone who didn't attract attention. I bet you had other identities before that, many of them. Every time your enemies got close to finding you, you just left. Just that you didn't go through with it this time.” Sherlock's gaze flickered to John. “Because something was keeping you in London. _Someone_ , to be more exact. You always returned and hoped that it would end well. Until it didn't. Now you're here to ask John for help, even if you know that it will endanger his life as well.” Sherlock crossed his arms. “Did someone follow you here?”

John watched them closely, not sure if he should say something or rather remain silent. He already waited for Mary to start laughing and tell Sherlock that he's being ridiculous, but that didn't happen. Instead, she sighed and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “No, I could shake them off in Rome.”

John stared at her. “Wait, are you saying that it's true? That Sherlock's right?”

She looked at him sadly. “I'm sorry, John. I never wanted you to know.”

“You were an _assassin_?!” He asked in disbelief. _Mary_ should be a killer? The woman who'd become one of John's best friends in the past year? How was this even possible? She wasn't even a violent person. She was nice and charming and very intelligent. Should that all have been a delusion? However, John also knew that spies needed all those abilities and much more.

“I _was_.” She emphasized and suddenly, she looked incredibly sad. “I stopped that years ago.”

“Just that you can't shake off the past that easily.” Sherlock said thoughtfully. “You didn't give up on your job freely. Something went wrong, didn't it?”

She sighed. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“So it did.” Sherlock concluded.

“Why are you really here?” John crossed his arms. “Is it true what Sherlock said? Is someone following you?”

She nodded silently.

“They want to...?” John couldn't finish the question.

“End my life?” Mary nodded. “I've been on the run for a long time now.”

“And now that you're here, you endanger everyone in this house.” Sherlock sounded annoyed, even angry. “You put _John_ in danger.”

“I didn't know where else to go!” Mary shouted and from the look on her face, John thought that she was going to cry. “You're the only friend I've got, he's right!”

“You've been lying to us all this time?” John asked slowly. He could feel Sherlock's eyes on him, but he kept focused on Mary. “Is Mary even your real name?”

“It isn't.” She whispered. “I'm so sorry, John. I didn't even want to stay in London for this long. But then I saw you and I just couldn't stay away. Actually, I only wanted you for a night or two.”

She wanted him for a night and be gone again. Instead, she became their friend. Did he even know anything about this woman? When she said his, Sherlock's expression darkened even more.

“It was all a lie? Let me guess, you never liked all the stories Greg and I told you. Do you even read crime stories? Or that choir you told us you were singing in, also not true? Are you even a nurse?” There were many more questions in his head, but John didn't ask them. He already knew the answer. When Mary didn't react at all, he knew that it was always a no.

“I think coming here was a mistake.” Sherlock said slowly while glancing at John again. This time, their eyes met. “What did you want to do, if John had been alone? Hide here until they found you? Risk his life as well?”

The despair on her face showed that she hadn't planned this far. “I didn't want to stay forever.”

“But long enough to be a risk.” Sherlock muttered darkly. “You're even risking all our lives now just by entering this building.”

“I've been here before.” She said simply. “Nothing happened to John.”

“Because they hadn't found you in London yet. Now they did.” Sherlock turned to John. “I correct what I said about the umbrella. It was good you defended yourself when you thought that someone broke into the flat.”

John began to feel cold when he thought of some unknown assassin waiting for him here just because he was a friend of Mary.

“What will you do now?” He asked. Somehow, he already knew that she wouldn't stay. “Leave the country?”

“Most probably. Get a new identity, find somewhere else to live for a while.” She shrugged. “Maybe I'll come back someday.”

“Is that why you wrote that letter? Because they'd tracked your phone?” John wanted to know.

“That's how they found me in Egypt.” She rolled her eyes. “I've been so stupid for staying here for so long! I should have left a few weeks after we first met. Feeling comfortable somewhere is always dangerous.”

“You won't be able to shake them off that easily.” Sherlock noted. “So how will you get away from here?”

“I've got a few more tricks.” Mary said vaguely.

“If you would, you'd already be gone. Why come back to London instead? Especially to the flat of a person who was seen with you several times?” Sherlock's frown deepened. “You can't leave the country that easily?”

“It was already hard to get back to London.” She admitted.

“So you really need help.” He concluded.

“I didn't want to put your life at risk, John.” Now Mary turned to him again. “I would never do that.”

“You did it by contacting him.” Again, Sherlock was faster than John.

John thought of everything he heard again. Honestly, it wasn't a big deal that she put his life at risk. For a friend, he was willing to do that. However, Mary was also a friend of Greg. And of course she risked Sherlock's and Mrs. Hudson's lives by coming to Baker Street.

Was she even his friend? She'd just admitted that he knew nothing about her. Everything he believed was a lie. So why should they hide her there? It would put Sherlock's life at risk and John couldn't tolerate that. Not when he just got him back. Not when everything was so good between them.

“Can we help you to get out of the country?”

Now they both stared at him in surprise. “You can't stay here.” He said simply. “As Sherlock said, too dangerous.” Sherlock's lips twitched at this. “So is there another way?”

“I don't think that you could get me a new identity?” She asked hopefully.

“Too risky. My brother would know that immediately.” Sherlock said. “Maybe we could help you to get a train that's heading north? You could stay there for some time.”

Her face fell. “I can do that myself.” She muttered. She looked at John again. “I wish I could stay here.” Suddenly, she stood up and all the insecurity on her face vanished. “But fine, if you don't want to help me.” Mary began to collect her things.

John exchanged a look with Sherlock, but he seemed to be just as confused as himself. “Mary, what are you doing?”

“Leaving.” She stated. “I'll be fine on my own. I don't want your help anymore. There's nothing you can offer me.”

“Would you have also said that if I'd still be gone?” Sherlock asked suddenly, his voice hard.

Mary hesitated. “Of course.”

“You don't mean it.” It was true, even John had heard the lie.

She sighed again and turned back to John. Looking in his eyes, she said, “You were the only thing I wanted in this new life I was building. When I realized that I wouldn't get more than being your friend, I tried to be fine with that.” She swallowed. “I'm sure I would have changed your mind one day. We could have been happy together, John.” Now she looked at Sherlock. “But no, of course the great Sherlock Holmes isn't dead! He's been in love with you all this time, did you know that?” She grimaced. “I've informed myself about you this past year. You're a sociopath. I really don't know what John likes about you. You're not even _nice_! He won't stay with you forever.”

Without looking at them again, she walked towards the door. “Goodbye, John.”

When the door shut behind her, John and Sherlock stared at each other in silence.

“What the hell was that?” John asked in the end.

“I think we just crossed one of her plans.” Sherlock grimaced. “Mary Watson would have sounded awful, you know that?”

John chuckled. “I still can't believe this really happened. And I always thought she's alright!”

“Seems like this time, I wasn't the one with bad judgement concerning people.” Sherlock noted with a slight smile on his lips.

“That's true.” John agreed and looked out of the window. Mary was just getting into a cab. “Are you sure that it was alright not to help her? I mean, she was really in trouble.”

“She wanted to use you for her own happiness! Didn't you hear what she said, John? _You're the only thing I wanted in this new life I was building._ Pathetic!” He grimaced. “Especially that she called you a thing. If she would have at least said person.”

“You didn't like her from the first moment you saw her.” John noticed.

“Of course not! She was putting your life in danger. That can't be tolerated!” For half a second, John thought of telling Sherlock that he just sounded like Mycroft now, but he dropped that idea again. He didn't want to cause an argument now. Not after what just happened with Mary.

“Yours as well.” John said. “After I just got you back. That's also why I wanted her gone.” He admitted. “I don't want to lose you again.”

Sherlock's expression softened. “You won't.” It sounded like a promise.

“Do you think we'll see her again?”

Sherlock sighed. “Somehow, I _know_ that we'll see her again. Don't ask me why. It's just a feeling.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Since when does Sherlock Holmes listen to his feelings?”

Sherlock chuckled. “Ever since I met you.” Slowly, he approached John. “I think we got interrupted when that woman arrived here.”

“Did we, huh?” John asked and smiled. To be honest, he was glad that Sherlock changed the subject. He didn't want to think of Mary any longer. The feeling of disappointment was far too strong right now. After all, he'd really thought that she was his friend. The way things had turned out made him sad. But what would have happened if Sherlock wouldn't have been there? John wouldn't have given in to her attempts to get him, that was obvious. He'd always loved Sherlock, even when he'd thought that he was dead.

Sherlock's lips on his own took him back to reality. “Stop thinking of her.” Sherlock whispered between kisses. “She's not worth it. Focus on me, John.”

So he did. He only realized that Sherlock had been guiding him towards his room when his back hit the door. Moments later, they both fell onto the bed, laughing breathlessly. In this moment, all thoughts of Mary were forgotten.

John and Sherlock looked at each other silently and John tried to find any signs of hesitation in Sherlock's eyes. However, there was nothing. Just love and something he'd never seen on Sherlock's face before. It was _desire_.

“Tell me what you want.” John demanded to know and slowly, he moved closer to Sherlock.

“You, John.” The other man whispered quietly. “I've always wanted you.”

John smiled and placed kisses on Sherlock's throat. “Are you sure?” He would have to be careful, after all, Sherlock was still injured.

“Look at me.” Sherlock whispered and John did. There was determination in his eyes. “Of course I'm sure.” Suddenly, he grabbed John's shirt, pulled him closer and kissed him fiercely.

John couldn't hold back the groan and suddenly, he was lying on top of Sherlock. He wanted to pull back, afraid to hurt him. However, Sherlock just pulled john closer. “I'm _fine_.” He muttered hoarsely. “Now do something, John!”

He chuckled. “So bossy.” He began to unbutton Sherlock's shirt anyway.

When Sherlock's hands found their way under his shirt, he sighed.

It was a whole new experience for both of them. John had sex before, but never with another man. Also never with a person he loved. As to Sherlock, being so close to someone else was completely new to him. Nevertheless, they found their way to each other and later, they called it the best night of their lives.

John thought that Sherlock never looked more beautiful than when they made love and when Sherlock came with John's name on his lips, he knew that he was lost again. He'd always known that he'd give his life for this man and that he loved him with all his heart, but it had never been this clear before.

When they lay in bed together later, both still naked, John drew random patterns on Sherlock's back. “Seven.” Sherlock whispered suddenly.

“Hm?” John made a questioning noise.

“Times you said my name.” Was the quiet explanation.

John chuckled. “I bet you said my name many more times.” He whispered and placed a kiss on Sherlock's cheek. “Or _screamed_ it.”

Even in the dim light of the room, he knew that Sherlock was blushing. “I just hope Mrs. Hudson will never mention this.” He muttered darkly.

John laughed. “It's better than you shooting at the wall.”

“Now that you say it, I could also – Ouch! What was that for?” Sherlock tried to get away from him when he hit his arm playfully, but John just wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him closer.

“Shooting at walls isn't nice.” He muttered. “You could also just not do it again.”

Sherlock sighed. “Alright. If you insist.”

“Thank you.” John kissed Sherlock's shoulder and moved towards his chest slowly.

“If you won't stop that, we might have to do it again.” Sherlock warned him weakly.

John grinned. “You think you can take that?”

To his surprise, Sherlock pushed him down onto the mattress. “Let's find out.”

They both laughed before they kissed again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think! 
> 
> I don't own the characters or places!

They spend the next days in their flat. Once Sherlock discovered that he enjoyed their physical activities, he couldn't keep his hands off John. Not that John would complain. After years of longing, he was finally able to pull Sherlock closer and kiss him whenever he wanted. And touch him, of course. Sherlock was very vocal during their lovemaking and John enjoyed this immensely.

Since Sherlock was still recovering from his injuries, John always tried to be careful with him. However, as days passed, this started to infuriate Sherlock more and more. John knew that he wouldn't be able to keep him in their flat much longer. Because next to all the kissing and sex, Sherlock was getting bored.

For some time, it was enough for him to listen to John's stories about events during his absence. But soon, Sherlock was getting restless. The cold cases from Greg also weren't helping. John even considered going out with Sherlock on a case again at the end of the week, as long as he still didn't have to work.

But going out was also not that easy. For Sherlock, it was. However, John knew that Sherlock's appearance in public would alert the press and then they wouldn't get a moment of peace anymore. Sherlock didn't care, but John didn't feel comfortable with all those reporters around. Especially not after everything they'd written about his friend two years ago. Sometimes, John still dreamt of the 'lying detective', as they'd called it. He didn't want to hear questions about this again. They would come, that was for sure.

Would Sherlock show their relationship openly in public, like he did when Mrs. Hudson was around? Because that would cause even more uncomfortable questions from the reporters. John had always emphasized that he wasn't gay and Sherlock... well, he'd never been too fond of feelings in general. John didn't mind others knowing that Sherlock was his now, but he could live without stupid questions from reporters...

“If you keep frowning like that, you'll get wrinkles.” Sherlock's voice was low, but caught John's attention anyway. He looked up from his newspaper and saw that his boyfriend was watching him.

“I won't.” John argued without hesitation. “And why would you even think that?”

“Something's bothering you.” Sherlock deduced. “It's about me. Otherwise, you would just tell me what's going on. I assume it's about the fact that I want to go on cases again soon? And if so, the reporters and their questions are the problem. You didn't want them to bother you again after the interview you gave to restore my reputation. Now they will notice us again and you're wondering if they will bring that up again. They will, by the way. But you already know this.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “And there's something else...”

“Sometimes, I didn't miss you at all.” John muttered half-heartedly. It wasn't true. He'd missed everything about Sherlock, even his deductions that were getting on his nerves sometimes.

“You're wondering if I want to show our relationship in public.” Sherlock said loudly and for a few moments, he looked satisfied that he'd revealed John's secret thoughts. However, he got serious again soon. “That's not my decision. After all, this is about both of us.”

John stared at him. “Since when are you so thoughtful considering other people?”

Sherlock chuckled. “You should know that I'm not, John. You're the exception.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Normally, I would have asked why, but I think I already know the answer.”

“I love you.” Sherlock said simply. “Here's the answer to the question you didn't ask.” He winked at him. “It's as simple as that.”

John smiled. “I love you too.” He hesitated, thinking of what Sherlock just said. “So we're really going to make that decision together?”

“Of course.” Sherlock said simply. “No need to repeat it.”

“Do you mind others knowing about us?” John asked curiously.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You know that I've never cared what others think. So the question is if it will bother you.”

John thought of this. Would it bother him if others knew about their relationship? Most probably not. By now, he was over all this 'not gay' thing. The people closest to him knew the truth anyway. And maybe, just maybe he wanted to be able to hold Sherlock's hand in public, or silence him with a kiss when he started his endless deductions once more.

“No, it won't.” He replied determinedly.

This seemed to surprise Sherlock since he froze. “It won't?” He repeated incredulously. “What about all this 'I'm not gay' and 'we're just friends'?”

John chuckled. “You should know that I don't care about that anymore. My closest friends already know that I'm gay. I want other people to know that you're mine. I'm tired of hiding how I feel.”

This time, there was wonder on Sherlock's face when he looked at John. “You never cease to amaze me.” Sherlock whispered and John grinned.

“That's good. Otherwise, I might bore you soon and you'd have to search a new partner.” He joked.

Sherlock scowled. “You know that no one could ever replace you, John. Don't be ridiculous.”

“I like the sound of that.” John noted.

“That you're ridiculous?” Now Sherlock looked rather confused.

John laughed. “No, you fool. That no one can replace me.”

For a few seconds, Sherlock looked offended, but then he joined John's laughter. “By now, you should know that I always want you by my side.”

When he heard those words, John couldn't hold himself back any longer. He stood up and kissed Sherlock.

* * *

“Yes, you can come over.” John confirmed. “It should be fine by now. But only if it's not too exhausting. He still has to take things slow.” He listened for a few moments. “Alright, see you soon, Greg.”

John ended the call and went to the living room where Sherlock was lying on the couch, a bored expression on his face. “Who was that?” He wanted to know.

“Greg will be here soon, you should change your clothes. He's got a new case.” John explained with a smile.

At this, Sherlock sat up straight. “Lestrade's got a case? Like a real case and not just a file he found in the bottom drawer of his desk?”

John nodded. “I think it's alright for you to go out again. But don't overestimate yourself! Otherwise, I'll just drag you home again.”

The excitement on Sherlock's face made him grin. “Finally!” Sherlock declared loudly and walked to his room. “Give me five minutes and then I'll be ready!”

John chuckled. “You really can't wait to get out of here, right?”

“Of course not!” Sherlock turned around suddenly. “Not that being here with you isn't nice, but a new case...”

“You missed the adrenaline rush.” John concluded, amused.

“There's nothing better than a new case!” Sherlock declared, but then a mischievous smile appeared on his lips. “Well, maybe there's one thing...”

“Don't say it now!” John interrupted him quickly. “I don't want to have those images in my head all day!”

Sherlock grinned. “Then I'll just show you what I mean tonight, in the bedroom.”

John groaned. “Get dressed, I'm sure Greg will be here any minute!”

When Sherlock vanished in his room, John could still hear his laughter.

* * *

“I see that everything's fine between the two of you?” Greg asked quietly while he and John followed Sherlock through an empty building. It was being renovated at the moment and the construction workers had found a body this morning.

“Yes, better than fine, actually.” John grinned. “I'm so happy he's back.”

Greg's eyes widened when he realized the meaning behind those words. “You mean that the two of you...?” He didn't finish the sentence, but John knew what he wanted to say anyway.

He nodded. “Yes, that's right.”

Slowly, a wide smile appeared on Greg's lips. “It was about time! Congratulations, John!”

“Would you please stop talking? I can't think properly when you're discussing our love life, Lestrade!” Sherlock snapped when they walked around the next corner. He was already kneeling next to the body and glared at them in annoyance. However, John saw the gleam in his eyes.

Greg held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I'm already silent.” He muttered.

Sherlock focused on John. “I could use your opinion to this.” He gestured at the body.

John nodded and walked towards it slowly. When he knelt down, he saw that there was blood on the man's head. Much blood, to be exact. The last time he'd seen something like this had been when -

Sherlock placed a hand on John's arm and ripped him out of the dark thoughts which were about to overtake him. Of course he didn't miss John's reaction to the body. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and John understood the question. _Are you all right?_

He breathed in deeply and nodded. Sherlock was here, right next to him. He was fine. John could do this.

It was a man of about fifty years. Tall, muscular, dark hair, clad formally in a dark suit. Something had hit him on the head, that was obvious. “Seems like he's been killed with something heavy.” He noted.

“Most probably a hammer.” Sherlock agreed quietly. “One is missing on the windowsill. You can still see where it's been lying with all the dirt in here.”

“Do you know who he is?” John raised his eyebrows at Greg.

Greg nodded. “William Smith. 53 years old, lives here in London with his family. He owns a construction company.”

“The one that renovates this house?” He asked incredulously.

“No, the one who wanted to tear down this house. However, the owner refused.” Greg held up a piece of paper. “He tried to buy it again a few weeks before the renovation started.”

“You're kidding us, right?” Sherlock asked suddenly and stood up. “That's too easy!”

John and Greg exchanged a look. “What's too easy?” John asked. “Do you already know what happened here?”

“Of course I do!” Sherlock shouted, clearly disappointed that this wasn't a difficult case. “It's obvious!”

“Would you please enlighten us?” Greg crossed his arms. “Then we could get him out of here and carry on with the next case.”

Sherlock stared at him. “You've got more?”

Greg nodded. “Of course I've got more! I could have given you work the entire week if John wouldn't have refused to let me into your flat with a new case.”

Now he turned to John. “You did what?” He asked incredulously.

“You were still healing.” John said simply. “It was for your own good.”

“Are the other cases better than this one?” Sherlock demanded to know.

“Well, they're different, but -”

“That's enough for now.” Sherlock interrupted him. “It was his wife. He's been abusing her and she finally decided to put an end to it. She chose this place because it would look like some kind of feud because of the property.” He sighed. “Most probably, you'll find the hammer in her trash can. She didn't leave it here, afraid that someone might find it.”

Without waiting for their reaction, Sherlock left the room. “Now let's go, I need a better case!”

“It's good to have him back.” Greg whispered and grimaced. “This was something I didn't miss.”

“I really hope that one of your other cases is better.” John muttered. “Otherwise, he'll be in a bad mood the entire day.”

Together, they followed Sherlock.

* * *

On their way to NSY, John informed Greg about the events with Mary a few days ago.

“She's an assassin?” Greg asked loudly. “You're serious?”

“Very serious, Lestrade.” Sherlock replied simply. “I've seen it the moment I first looked at her. I can't believe that you didn't notice it. From what John told me, she's been acting weird all the time.”

“She wasn't.” John threw in. “She just seemed very busy with her job.”

“And she just stayed in London because of you?” Greg raised his eyebrows at John. “I mean, I noticed she had a thing for you the first time we saw her in that bar, but this sounds creepy. She knew you're gay, so why did she still try to get you for herself? Especially since she also knew that you're in love with...” At this, he glanced at Sherlock and smiled sheepishly.

Sherlock grinned and took John's hand. “No need to be embarrassed, Lestrade. You can say it.”

“I don't understand her reasons as well.” John admitted after smiling at Sherlock. “She was really upset when she realized that Sherlock wasn't dead.”

“It's good that I startled her. Otherwise, you might be with her now.” Sherlock didn't sound happy at all when he said this. “I don't like her.”

“I would have never been with her.” John stated. “Her attempts would have been useless.”

“She would have risked your life anyway.”

“Where is she now?” Greg interrupted them and John smiled at him gratefully. “Did she leave the country?”

“She barely managed to get back to England.” Sherlock shook his head. “She's still somewhere in the country, though I don't know where.”

“He's got a few ideas.” John added.

“Doesn't surprise me.” Greg sighed. “So we've been fooled all this time.”

John nodded. “Mary isn't even her real name.”

“And I really liked her...”

“Me too. She was nice.” John agreed.

“Do you think we'll see her again?” Greg sounded thoughtful now.

“We will.” Sherlock answered the question. “I have the feeling that this isn't over yet.”

“Are you sure that this is Sherlock Holmes?” Greg asked John and pointed at Sherlock. “He's talking about _feelings_.”

“Don't be stupid, Lestrade.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Even I am capable to feel something.”

“Wouldn't have guessed that before John came into your life.” Greg muttered. “And even then you've been an ass for the first months.”

“He can still be.” John threw in. “Even though I didn't agree when Mary said it would never last between us.” The last sentence was directed at Sherlock. “I could never leave you.”

Sherlock smiled softly. “I know.” Then he leaned in to kiss John.

Luckily, Greg didn't say anything to this. He just cleared his throat when they'd arrived at NSY. “Oh my, what's going on here?” John asked when he looked out of the window.

“Important press conference.” Greg told them. “Though it should start in two hours, I don't know what they're all doing here already.” He frowned and there was concern on his face. “Maybe I could get you in through the back door.”

“Nonsense.” Sherlock argued. “We won't let a few reporters scare us away, will we, John?” However, there was a slight frown on his face which showed him that Sherlock wasn't completely sure about this. He seemed to fear that John had doubts.

“All right, let's do this. We can also get over with it now. Then everyone will know you're alive again.” He smiled slightly. “Who knows, maybe you'll get more cases once the people know that you're back?”

Greg looked at them silently for a few moments before he nodded. “Then let's go.” He got out of the car first and it didn't take long until the first reporters noticed him.

“DI Lestrade, did you already find the trace of the Borgia Pearl?”

“What about the politician who vanished last week?”

“Can you tell us something about your most recent cases?”

“Will you also attend the press conference later?”

The questions wouldn't stop. John exchanged a look with Sherlock. “Are you sure that it's a good idea to go out there now?”

Sherlock nodded. “Though I still don't know why everyone is so interested in the Borgia Pearl!”

He opened the door of the car and John followed him swiftly. They were able to walk a few meters until the first reporters noticed them. The reaction was just as John expected.

A woman cried out in shock.

Now everyone turned to face the reason for this. When they recognized Sherlock, all cameras were directed at them immediately and most of the reporters started to talk at the same time. John didn't even try to understand a single word, it wouldn't be of any use.

To his surprise, Sherlock placed a hand on his back and guided him through the crowd and towards the building. While doing that, they both didn't look at the people surrounding them.

Once the door closed behind them, John sighed in relief. “Let's take the back door when we leave.”

Sherlock nodded shortly. “Will be better.” He smiled slightly. “Did you hear what they said?”

He shook his head. “I didn't even try to listen to all of them.”

“They can't believe that I'm back. One of them also asked where my hat was, though I really don't understand why that's of any relevance now. However, the most important question was if we're a couple now.” There was a gleam in Sherlock's eyes. “Only because my hand was on your back. Imagine their reactions when they see us holding hands in public. Or when we kiss.”

John chuckled. “Let me guess, you want to take photos of their reactions yourself just to laugh at them later?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I'd never do that.”

“You would.” John muttered when they walked to Greg's office.

Most of Greg's colleagues weren't surprised to see Sherlock there. Most probably, he'd already informed them about the fact that he was alive. John couldn't help noticing the guilty looks on some of their faces. After all, they'd believed Moriarty's lies two years ago.

Sherlock was calm as always and just ignored the curious glances of the other people. Instead, he focused on Greg. “Now tell me about the other cases!”

* * *

In the evening, they were lying in bed together, Sherlock's arms wrapped around John's waist. “Tell me you won't put that last case on your blog.” Sherlock muttered.

“Didn't you notice that I already did?” John teased him with a grin.

Sherlock sighed. “You didn't, but you plan to. I see that there's no way to stop you.”

He chuckled. “People are already running crazy because they know you're alive. We need to give them stories. Otherwise, they'll want to know what you've been doing those past two years soon.” They were already asking that, next to the fact how Sherlock faked his death.

“They want to know much more than that.” Sherlock voiced John's thoughts. “I might have to tell the story one day, John.”

“I know.” He whispered after a few moments of silence.

“You still don't want to know how I did it.” Sherlock noted.

“It's not that I'm not _curious_...” John began hesitantly. “I just fear that everything will come back then. All the fear and pain of that day.”

“But I'm here with you. I can keep the demons away.” Sherlock whispered and kissed him softly.

“I love you.” John whispered and let Sherlock pull him even closer.

“I love you too. Never doubt that.”

“I won't.”

They were silent for some time and John thought of everything again. Slowly, he was getting curious about the way Sherlock faked his death. But would it make him feel better or worse? Most probably, the nightmares would also return. On the other hand, Sherlock was with him at night and he could always keep them away.

“What will you call it?” Sherlock asked suddenly, ripping him out of his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

“The case. You will write it.”

“Maybe 'Curious Events at the Zoo'?” John suggested.

He could literally feel Sherlock roll his eyes at this. “Just call it 'Murder in the Zoo', that's more precise.”

“That doesn't sound very good.” John noted. “And it was quite odd, even you should see that.”

“Because the man was locked in the cage of the tiger while the animal was outside, running through the park?” Sherlock muttered. “And no one knew how that could happen?”

“Exactly.”

“It wasn't that strange.”

John snorted. “Of course you say that.” He ran a hand down Sherlock's back. “I think I'll just stick by my name.”

“You never listen to my ideas.” Sherlock didn't sound annoyed at all.

“Because they're not very entertaining.”

“I'm not here for anyone's entertainment.” Sherlock muttered, but then he stopped. “Well, maybe for _yours_ , Dr. Watson.”

John chuckled. “Don't you have enough already?”

“You know that I can never get enough of you.” Sherlock replied immediately.

They just stared to kiss each other when John drew back. “Alright, tell me about it.”

For a few moments, Sherlock frowned at him in confusion. However, he became serious soon. “Are you sure?”

John nodded. “I want to know how you did it.”

Sherlock looked at him searchingly for a few more moments, but in the dim light of the bedroom it was difficult for John to interpret his expression. Then he nodded. “I planned everything with Molly...” He began his tale.

* * *

“Something is missing here!” Sherlock declared loudly. “I can see it, but I don't know what it is yet...” He turned around and scanned the room frantically.

John exchanged a look with Greg. “Any idea what he's talking about?”

Greg shook his head. “None.”

“What's wrong, Sherlock?” John tried to find the reason for his boyfriend's sudden uneasiness.

“Intuitions are not to be ignored, John. They represent data processed too fast for the conscious mind to comprehend.” Sherlock muttered. “We have to find what's missing there!”

John looked at Greg and shrugged. “You heard him.”

Greg frowned. “But is that even important for our case?”

“Doesn't matter!” Sherlock said loudly. “Just help me search!”

It didn't take long until they found out what was bothering Sherlock so much. A bust of Margaret Thatcher was missing. Apparently, someone broke into the house, stole nothing but the bust, smashed it outside and left.

“What's so important about a broken bust of Margaret Thatcher?” John asked when they were on their way back home. Of course Sherlock had solved the actual case easily.

“I have a strange feeling about that.” Sherlock muttered darkly. “I don't know why, but this bothers me.”

“Like every riddle you can't solve.” John threw in.

“No, this is different. I can't explain it.” He kept whispering to himself and walked towards the car.

John frowned and next to him, Greg shook his head. “Do I even want to know what's going on in that mind of his right now?”

“No, you don't.” John replied when they followed Sherlock to the car.

That evening, Sherlock was silent and didn't react to John's attempts to talk. He was in his mind palace, most probably looking for information about Margaret Thatcher. Even if John didn't know why that should be important.

So he just took his laptop and began to write down their latest case. His readers would love it if he left out the part with the bust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think you might already know why that bust is so important to Sherlock? :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think, that would be awesome! I might have used a few sentences from the episoe 'The Six Thatchers' in this chapter, I hope you don't mind.
> 
> I don't own the characters or places!

The next days, Sherlock was possessed with Margaret Thatcher. He tried to find out as much as possible about her, but nothing seemed to explain why the bust had been stolen and smashed. It was driving him crazy, that wasn't hard to see. John tried to distract him as good as possible, but nothing worked.

And then John's free week was over and he also had to go to work again. Which left Sherlock alone for half of the day. He was busy with cases again, but every free minute he spent thinking about the one riddle he couldn't solve yet. Luckily, there weren't too many free minutes by now. Next to Greg, other people also started to come to 221 B again since the press had published the news that Sherlock Holmes was still alive. It was nearly as if he'd never been gone at all.

One afternoon when he was still at work, John got a text from Sherlock.

**Come home, we'll get a visitor soon. -SH**

John wondered who would visit them and why Sherlock wanted to have him around, but he left work as fast as possible anyway. He was still nervous when Sherlock wasn't around, afraid that something might happen to him. John knew that he was being stupid, but he couldn't help it. Not when he just got Sherlock back after thinking that he'd been dead for two years. He couldn't stand losing him again, he knew that it would break him completely. 

When he entered the flat, Sherlock was already sitting in his armchair, the phone in his hand. He was typing furiously and John knew that he was busy with solving cases once more. “Hello.” He greeted him, not sure what else he could say. He didn't want to distract Sherlock now. 

“You're early. I expected you in ten minutes.” Sherlock said without looking up. 

“Your text made me curious. And work has been boring anyway.” John said simply and sat down as well. “So who's coming over?” 

Sherlock sighed. “Mycroft.” 

“What does Mycroft want here?” John asked. 

“I might have asked him about Margaret Thatcher. Instead of just answering my question, he said he would come here this afternoon.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and finally, he looked at John. “He wants to check on me.” He rolled his eyes. “After everything he's done, he should know that it's not appreciated.” 

“You'd never appreciate that.” John noted with a slight smile. 

Sherlock sighed again. “You know what I mean, John. He shouldn't have talked to you like that.” 

John raised his eyebrows. “I thought we'd already discussed this and came to the conclusion that it wasn't so bad after all?” He smiled. “We wouldn't be together if your brother didn't interfere.” 

“That's true.” Sherlock admitted slowly. “But it wasn't right anyway. No one should talk to you like that. The look on your face -” 

“I was just surprised.” John threw in before Sherlock could start to complain about Mycroft's behaviour again. “Nothing else. I didn't believe that you could ever return my feelings, remember?” 

“We already noted that we've both been stupid.” Sherlock agreed. “No need to talk about it again.” 

John chuckled. “You're impossible.” He muttered with a grin. 

“I know. You won't stop emphasizing that. But let me tell you one thing, John.” There was a gleam in Sherlock's eyes. “You love me anyway.” 

“That's true.” He agreed softly. 

The knock on the door interrupted their conversation and Mycroft Holmes entered the flat. He was wearing a dark gray suit with a fitting tie and the umbrella was in his hand. All in all, he looked like he always did. There was a smile on his lips, but it didn't look very convincing. “Good afternoon, Sherlock, Dr. Watson.” He greeted them politely. 

“Hello Mycroft.” John replied and smiled at him. This made Mycroft frown, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he turned to Sherlock. 

“You said you wanted to talk to me.” He said and sat down on the chair. 

“You already know that I want to know more about Margaret Thatcher.” Sherlock said simply and crossed his arms. “You could have also told me those things on the phone.” 

“I don't even know what it is that you are interested in, dear brother.” Mycroft said. “Margaret Thatcher was the first woman ever to be -” 

“Prime Minister.” Sherlock interrupted him. “I know. But I don't care about that. What else did she do? Why could she be important?” The urgency in his voice seemed to surprise Mycroft. 

“What's going on?” He asked and glanced at John. 

“Someone stole and destroyed a bust of Margaret Thatcher.” John explained. “It's a riddle he can't solve.” 

Now Mycroft seemed to understand why his brother was acting like that. He nodded slowly. “Maybe it was just someone who hated her?” 

“Nothing else was stolen in that house. Just the bust. Why would someone do that without a reason?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes. 

“Hate can be a reason for many things.” Mycroft replied, but Sherlock shook his head. 

“It's not that, I know it! There is a reason behind this. I have to know what's going on!” 

“He's been like this for days.” John noted. “Ever since we found out about it.” 

Mycroft frowned. “Honestly, I don't think that there is a reason behind all this.” He said after a few moments of silence. “However, I could try to find out more, if you'd be interested.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You know that we are.” He muttered. “Try to do it fast, I need to solve this case.” 

John still wasn't sure why this was so important to Sherlock, but he trusted his instincts. So he nodded when Mycroft glanced at him. Honestly, he also wanted Sherlock to stop talking about Margaret Thatcher all day. Slowly, it was getting exhausting. 

“I will see what I can do.” Mycroft said in the end. “If this is all, I will leave now. There is an important meeting soon.” 

“One more thing.” Sherlock interrupted his brother. “I want you to apologize.” 

Mycroft frowned. “I don't know what you're talking about, Sherlock.” 

“You know exactly what I mean.” Sherlock stated and crossed his arms.

“It's fine, Sherlock.” John threw in, but of course no one listened to him. 

“The things you told John. You had no right to do that.” 

Mycroft chuckled, clearly amused. “You should thank me, Sherlock. Otherwise, the two of you would still look at each other longingly when you thought that no one could see you. Now, you finally talked about everything.” He grinned. “And I see that everything is perfectly fine between the two of you.” 

“No need to comment on my love life.” Sherlock muttered. “I won't thank you. We would have figured it out on our own.” 

John wasn't so sure about that, but he nodded anyway. 

“You wouldn't.” Mycroft said simply. “I won't apologize, especially since Dr. Watson isn't mad at me anymore.” 

At this, Sherlock turned to John. “You aren't?” He asked incredulously. 

John sighed. “He's right.” He said slowly and Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise. “Oh come on! Without him, everything would still be uncomfortable and awkward between us.” 

“Listen to Dr. Watson.” Mycroft advised and stood up. “If you will excuse me now? I really have to leave. Anthea is already waiting for me downstairs.” He smiled widely. “Sherlock, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft bowed his head. Before he reached the door, he turned to his brother again. “I will contact you as soon as I have more information about Margaret Thatcher.” 

“You'd better do that...” Sherlock muttered when his brother was already gone. 

His departure was followed by silence. John didn't know what to say, so he just waited. 

“You're siding with my brother now?” Sherlock asked quietly. 

John raised his eyebrows. “Why would you think that? Of course not!” He explained. “But you have to admit that he's right.” He stood up and approached Sherlock slowly. “Without him, we wouldn't be able to do this now.” He leaned in and kissed Sherlock softly. 

“I still think he should apologize.” Sherlock muttered when they parted, even if it sounded half-heartedly now. 

“Of course you do.” John whispered and pulled Sherlock to his feet. Then he wrapped his arms around him. This time, their kiss wasn't as soft as the first one. Sherlock pulled John closer and his hands wandered over his back. 

“Do you still have plans for today?” John asked between the kisses. His hands wandered to the buttons of Sherlock's shirt. 

“No.” Sherlock whispered and kissed John's throat. 

“Bedroom. Now.” He said hoarsely and began to drag Sherlock in said direction. 

Sherlock chuckled. “As you wish.” 

* * *

John looked at the title of the new story on his blog again and nodded to himself. It was very good, he had to admit. Even if the case had been terribly infuriating. At least to him. Of course Sherlock had always emphasized how easy it was.

**The Duplicate Man**

_ How could Dennis Parkinson be in two places at the same time? And murdered in one of them? _

His blog began and John already knew that the people were going to love it. First, he'd suspected that it were twins, but of course Sherlock had told him that this was nonsense. 'It's never twins.' He's said simply and he had been right. 

John was just thinking how to continue the story when there was a knock on the door. He frowned. They weren't expecting a client yet and Sherlock wasn't even there – he was outside because of another case close by. Something about a missing dog and strange newspaper articles. So who would visit them now? 

“Come in!” He called loudly and closed his laptop. 

Greg entered the flat and grinned triumphantly. “You won't believe what I've got here!” He declared loudly, but when he noticed that Sherlock wasn't there, his smile faded and he frowned. John noticed that he was holding a plastic bag in his hand, but he couldn't identify the object it contained. “Where's Sherlock?” 

“On a case. He should be back soon.” John explained. “What do you have there?” 

Greg grinned and showed John the object in the bag. He stared at him in surprise. “Where did you find that?” 

“Someone reported a break-in. Nothing was stolen except for this.” 

“I'm going to call Sherlock.” John muttered and reached for his phone. 

Sherlock answered after the first ring. “ _ John, what's wrong? Why are you calling? I'm already on my way back. _ ” John noticed the concern in Sherlock's voice. 

“Nothing's wrong. Greg is here and he's got a new case for you. You'll love this one.” He told him and couldn't stop himself from grinning, even if Sherlock couldn't see it. 

Five minutes later, Sherlock stormed into the flat, breathing heavily. It was obvious that he'd been running. “What's going on? What kind of case do you have, Lestrade?” He demanded to know once the door was closed behind him. He looked at John. “You said it's exciting.” 

John pointed at the plastic bag in Greg's hand. 

Sherlock stared at it. “This is...” 

“Another bust of Margaret Thatcher.” Greg confirmed. “Different owner, different part of town. You were right! This is a thing. Something's going on.” 

Sherlock stared at the bust silently. John knew that he was already trying to figure out more details about it. 

“What's wrong? I thought you'd be pleased.” Greg muttered in confusion. 

“I _am_ pleased.” Sherlock muttered quietly. “I knew it! I just knew that something was wrong about it.” 

“You don't look pleased.” Greg was still frowning. 

“He _is_ pleased.” John noted. He could see the tension in Sherlock's body. 

“The game is on.” Sherlock whispered and finally, his expression turned to a wide smile. “Can I have a look at this?” 

“That's why I'm here.” Greg handed Sherlock the bag. 

While Sherlock looked at it in the kitchen, John took Greg aside. “Can you find out who else owns such a bust?” 

Greg nodded. “My team is already on it. Apparently, only a few of these were sold. It shouldn't be that difficult.” 

“I have the feeling that the others will get stolen and smashed as well.” John muttered thoughtfully. 

“I think so too.” Greg agreed. “Do you have any idea why someone would do that?” 

“Nope.” John shook his head. “We even asked Mycroft, but he's just as clueless as we are. However, he'll tell us if he finds out more.” 

“What a strange case...” Greg looked at Sherlock thoughtfully. “He loves it, doesn't he?” 

John nodded. “You know that cases like this are like drugs to him.” 

Greg nodded. “Does he still take...?” He didn't finish the question, but John knew what he wanted to say anyway. 

“No, luckily, he doesn't.” He whispered and couldn't hide his relief. “And I hope he won't start with that again.” 

“You're good for him. I'm sure he'll be fine.” Greg said with a smile. Suddenly, Greg's phone beeped and he looked at the screen. John watched him closely and saw the surprise on his friend's face. 

“What's going on?” 

“We've got another one.” Greg said, his eyes still on the screen. 

“Another bust?” John asked incredulously. 

“Yes, that's the third one.” 

“We should tell him.” John gestured at Sherlock and together, they walked to the kitchen. 

“Another one has been smashed.” Greg told Sherlock, who was still focused on the microscope. 

He looked up slowly. “Identical busts?” 

Greg nodded. “Three by now.” 

“Do you know where the others are?” Sherlock asked, looking at the bust once more. 

“We're working on it.” Greg told him. “Hopefully, we'll know that soon.” 

“Call me as soon as you find something.” Sherlock muttered. Suddenly, he froze. “Oh.” 

“What?” John asked. 

“Blood. Quite a bit of it, too.” John and Greg exchanged a look. “Was there any injury at the crime scene?” Sherlock asked. 

“No.” 

“Then our suspect must have cut themselves breaking the bust.” John could see the excitement on his boyfriend's face. “I already have an idea how we can find out more about this.” 

John raised his eyebrows sceptically. “And how?” 

Sherlock grinned. “This will be awesome.” 

* * *

In the end, the idea with the dog wasn't awesome at all because it didn't work. Toby, the dog, guided them through the entire city, but not towards the source of the blood. At least that's what John thought. In the end, they landed on a market, right in front of a butchery. 

“Clever.” Sherlock noted and only now John realized that the dog might have taken them to the right place after all. 

“Like hiding a tree in a forest.” He said with a look at all the blood on the ground. 

“Or blood in a butchers'.” Sherlock muttered, but John couldn't laugh at this joke. “It's so bizarre.” He stated. “I _know_ that we're missing something about this case! It might be just a tiny detail...” He looked around attentively. “I can't grasp it yet.” 

John watched him silently and tried to ignore that the dog tried to pull him towards the butchery. 

Sherlock sighed. “Let's bring Toby back.” 

“And another walk through the city...” John muttered, but this one was far more comfortable than the first. After all, they could take the direct path. After some time, Sherlock even started to talk to John about other things than this case. Somehow, he was glad about it. 

* * *

It didn't take long for Greg and his team to find out more about the busts of Margaret Thatcher. “They're from Georgia.” Greg explained. “Gelder & Co. Only six of those were produced.” 

“Only six?” John asked incredulously. “Why just six?” 

Greg shrugged. “No one knows. They were all sold to England, though.” 

“Where exactly?” Sherlock raised his eyebrows. 

“One to Welsborough, one to Hassan, one to Doctor Barnicot. Those are the three we have already. Then two to Miss Orrie Harker and the last one to Mr. Jack Sandeford.” 

“Why does she need two?” Sherlock frowned in confusion. 

Greg opened his mouth to answer, but his phone rang in that moment. “I'm sorry, have to answer that.” He accepted the call. “DI Lestrade.” He listened for some time and his expression turned grim. In the end, he sighed. “Yes, he's with me now. We're on our way.” 

John and Sherlock exchanged a look. “What happened?” John asked. 

“Another one.” Greg said simply. 

“Harker or Sandeford?” Sherlock asked immediately. 

“Harker. And it's murder this time.” Greg sighed. “I assume you'll come with me?” 

Sherlock nodded. “Of course.” There was still a frown on his face. “Murder... That perks things up a bit.” 

John sighed and exchanged a look with Greg. He also didn't look thrilled. “Then let's go.” John muttered and they all left the flat. 

* * *

On their way, John noticed that Sherlock kept frowning at his phone. “What are you thinking?” He asked quietly. 

Sherlock looked up. “I have no idea what you mean.” 

John sighed. “Come on, you're doing research on something. Don't think that I wouldn't notice it.” 

Sherlock smiled slightly. “You know me too well.” He handed John his phone. There, he could see information about the Borgia Pearl. 

“Didn't you say that this was far too boring for you?” He asked sceptically. 

“It is. It was just a thought.” Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. “However, something about this doesn't fit. I was convinced that the damn pearl is in France at the moment and didn't arrive here yet.” 

“Didn't you say that it is important to listen to your intuition?” John took Sherlock's hand and squeezed it. “If you think that it's not the pearl, then it has to be something else.”

“Even I can be wrong sometimes.” Sherlock said slowly.

“This sentence out of your mouth? I'm shocked.” John joked, but Sherlock didn't smile.

“I was also wrong about my absence. You didn't take it as well as I'd expected.” He looked unhappy now.

“That's different.” John threw in immediately. “Just trust your instincts, Sherlock. If you think it isn't the pearl, something else will be behind all this.”

“But I don't know what it is!” He muttered in frustration. “That drives me crazy.”

“I know.” John said softly. “But we'll solve this case, I'm sure of that.” He smiled encouragingly and finally, Sherlock relaxed.

“If you say it, it has to be true.” His lips twitched. The car stopped and Sherlock looked out of the window. “Now come on, let's look at the body!”

* * *

“Defensive wounds on her face and hands. Throat cut – sharp blade.” One of the police officers told them.

“What about the busts?” Sherlock asked.

“Two of them, both destroyed.”

“Interesting.” Sherlock muttered and began to walk towards the house. “The batch of statues was made in Tbilisi several years ago – limited edition of six.”

“And now someone's wandering around and destroys them all. That makes no sense. What's the point?” Greg asked.

“Not destroying the busts.” Sherlock said suddenly and stopped. “It's not the point!” He repeated, louder this time. When he turned around to look at John and Greg, they saw that he was smiling. “I've been so blind!”

“And what is the point?” John asked and crossed his arms.

“The person is looking for something!” Sherlock explained. “Inside of it.” He turned to Greg. “He didn't find it here. Jack Sandeford of Reading is our last chance!” The excitement on his face wasn't hard to miss. “We have to make a plan.”

* * *

“And you really thing that this is going to work?” John whispered.

Sherlock nodded. “Of course. Nothing will go wrong.”

They were hiding in Sandeford's house and waiting for the intruder. John and Sherlock were both hidden close to the bust of Margaret Thatcher while Greg and his team were waiting outside, also hidden.

“I hope you're right about this.” John muttered, but then they heard a noise outside and couldn't continue their conversation anymore. A figure clad in black entered the house through the back door. In the darkness, John couldn't see much, but he was sure that it was a man. He walked towards the bust and just wanted to put it into his bag when Sherlock stood up.

“Wouldn't it be much simpler to take out your grievances at the polling station?” He asked loudly.

The man turned around to face Sherlock. While doing that, he raised a gun. However, Sherlock had expected this and was faster. He slapped the gun out of his hand. In this moment, it was very hard for John to stay hidden, but they'd agreed that he should only show himself when the intruder was distracted. When the man wanted to hit Sherlock with his bag, John knew that the right moment had come. He left his hiding place and tried to overtake the man from behind. First, it worked, but he was stronger than expected. He shoved John to the ground and threw himself at Sherlock again.

It wasn't easy to overtake him, but in the end, John and Sherlock managed it. Even if Sherlock fell into Sandeford's pool in the course of it. When Greg and his team arrested the intruder, John looked at the bust more closely. “What do you think he was looking for?”

“Only one way to find out.” Sherlock, who had a towel wrapped around his shoulders now, said.

John nodded slowly and lifted the bust over his head. Then he smashed it on the ground.

“I knew it wasn't that stupid pearl!” Sherlock muttered when they saw what had been hidden in the bust. It was a memory stick with four letters on it.

“A.G.R.A.? What does that mean?” John asked.

“I think we'll see that as soon as we're at home.” Sherlock noted.


End file.
